


Promises Kept

by AgtSpooky



Series: The Finding Freedom Series [3]
Category: Strike Back
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 17:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12731454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgtSpooky/pseuds/AgtSpooky
Summary: Michael and Damien rode off into the sunset together. They thought they’d finally found their happy ending, a new life in front of them. But when an enemy from their past reappears, seeking to eliminate the former Section 20 operatives, they find themselves in one final life-or-death mission to gain their freedom.





	Promises Kept

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "I'll Carry You" and "Lock and Key". It's not terribly important that you read them but it will give you an idea of how Michael and Damien's relationship started and where they are now.

 

 

 

The sound of songbirds calling out to one another outside the bedroom window pulled Damien slowly from sleep. He shifted, eyes still closed, and drew in a long breath before releasing it, slow and relaxed. He let his blue eyes blink open, squinting slightly at the brightness. His bare skin was warm from the morning sunlight streaming in from the open window. He'd slept longer than normal, but he wasn't surprised, having been woken in the middle of the night for some…nocturnal activities.

 

He let a lazy grin slide across his face as he tipped his head to the left, spying the person responsible for said activities. Michael lay next to him on his side, still sleeping, his handsome features relaxed, his breathing slow and even, his tanned skin bathed in the warm light from the sun.

 

Content, Damien sighed, loathe to move from the comfort of their bed and his partner's side, but they had a rare day off and while he wanted to be _in_ bed with Michael, he didn't want to be _sleeping_ with him.

 

Letting Michael rest a while longer, Damien quietly slid from the bed, snagging his pair of navy blue boxer briefs from the floor, where his partner had tossed them around 2:30 am. He pulled them on and padded softly across the wooden bedroom floor, out into the hallway and down to the kitchen.

 

He scrubbed a hand across his face, over his ever-present hint of stubble and headed directly for the coffee machine on the counter, needing his morning caffeine fix. Coffee machine on a minute later, Damien turned to the electric kettle and flipped it on for Michael's morning beverage of choice.

 

Damien leaned back against the counter as the water heated up in both machines, his eyes catching the calendar on the wall – June 18th. Damien blinked as the date settled in. Hard to believe it had been a year and a half already. It seemed like only yesterday that he and Michael had settled here in Vermont. He glanced around the ranch-style house, his gaze lingering on the bedroom door. How his life had changed in those eighteen months. Only for the better. Which he never would have expected.

 

Damien gradually became aware of the quiet surrounding him, not something he was accustomed to anymore. Normally there was always activity outside, but they had said goodbye to their guests early last night and had given the staff today off as well, their next guests not due to arrive until tomorrow afternoon. A rare twenty-four hours of solitude for he and Michael. And he was going to make the most of it.

 

Speaking of his partner, Damien turned to the refrigerator and opened the door, making sure he had the fixings for a full English breakfast. He wasn't much of a cook, but he was gradually getting better under Lupita's patient tutelage, and he finally had the time to do something indulgent for Michael. His partner rarely made mention of London anymore, but Damien knew Michael missed his home; relocating to the States had been harder on him than Damien.

 

Ten minutes later, Damien poured coffee and tea into mugs and took them into the bedroom, setting them down on the bedside table. Michael had rolled over onto his back, his eyes still closed. The pale blue sheet was pushed down to just below his waist, miles of smooth, bare skin on display. Damien could already feel his body responding to the sight, a Pavlovian response whenever he saw Michael like this.

 

Damien moved to his side of the bed, tugging his briefs down and off his hips, leaving them once again in a puddle on the floor. He climbed carefully back up onto the mattress, making sure not to wake Michael. Not yet, anyway. With two fingers, he picked up the sheet and slowly slid it father down his partner's body, to the top of his thighs. Damien's cock gave a gentle throb at Michael's fully naked body, still feeling himself buried deep inside a few hours ago.

 

He leaned in closer, dipping his head, inhaling Michael's clean, warm scent that was uniquely his own, until his lips just brushed against his partner's chest. He placed soft kisses across the smooth skin until he reached a flat, dusky nipple. His tongue darted out, licking across the nub, and Michael stirred. His partner shifted beneath him, pulling in a breath as Damien lapped again at his nipple.

 

"Hmmm…." Michael murmured, one of his hands raising up to cup the back of Damien's head.

 

Encouraged, Damien closed his mouth over the nub and began to suck, drawing the nub in, laving his tongue over it until it was slick and wet and pebble-hard. While his mouth worked on Michael's well-known erogenous zone, his hand wandered. First over to Michael's other nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until it, too, was standing at attention. He gently squeezed and Michael's fingers flexed against his head in response as he moaned softly. Damien released the small nub and ghosted his fingers across and down his partner's well-defined abs.

 

He drew Michael's nipple into his mouth one last time, tugging gently, just grazing his teeth over the nub. Michael pulled in a quick, sharp breath at the stimulation as Damien raised his head. His partner's eyes drifted open just enough for Damien to see the heat growing in their blue-green depths before they closed again as Damien captured Michael's mouth for a slow, deep kiss. Michael's lips parted eagerly underneath Damien's and their tongues wound lazily around one another's, drawing quiet sighs from them both.

 

Damien's hand continued it's downward exploration, drifting below Michael's naval until it cupped his partner's full and heavy balls. He rolled them in his palm, squeezing and tugging gently as Michael groaned into the kiss, shifting his hips upwards. One more tug and Damien's hand moved upwards slightly to curl around Michael's uncut cock. It was Damien's turn to groan then, taking his partner in hand, feeling Michael's length grow and harden against his palm as he stroked him slowly, easing the foreskin back and down. Damien's own body responded in kind, his cock filling, pressed against the side of Michael's leg.

 

The kiss went on, growing in intensity as Damien brought them both to full erection, Michael's hips pressing upwards into Damien's grip while Damien's hips pushed into Michael's thigh. Michael shifted then, moving one leg to the side, bending it at the knee, opening himself, the invitation clear.

 

Damien released Michael's cock, slipping two fingers into his mouth to wet them thoroughly. His hand then once again drifted downwards, this time questing further, seeking out the small, puckered muscle. He circled his finger around Michael's entrance, rubbing, teasing his partner for a moment before slipping a finger inside. Michael broke the kiss with a quiet gasp as Damien's finger easily slid deeper inside, his partner still slick and open from their pre-dawn activities.

 

"Yeah…" Michael breathed, pushing down as Damien added a second finger, trying to get them deeper, then groaning in frustration as Damien withdrew them both just a moment later.

 

Damien grinned down at his partner before rolling to his side, away from Michael, his hand slapping down on his bedside table, reaching for the tube of lube he knew was there. When he rolled back, tube in hand, Michael had raised both legs and spread them wide.

 

"Fuck me," Damien muttered at the sight of Michael laid out before him—his mouth red and wet from their kiss, his face flushed, eyes now full of desire, his cock hard and standing at attention. Damien's own cock throbbed, releasing pearls of precome in anticipation.

 

He quickly flicked open the cap on the tube and hastily coated his erection in the clear lube, stroking himself, growing even harder. He moved between Michael's spread legs and guided his cock to Michael's entrance. He rubbed against it, this time teasing them both before pushing just the swollen head of his cock ever so slowly inside of his partner.

 

Twin moans filled the air, Damien drawing out the moment as long as he could, feeling Michael's body drawing him in, stretching around his thick length. He pressed in again, slipping in further and Michael's eyes fluttered closed, his mouth falling open. One more push and Damien was buried deep, his eyes squeezing shut, exhaling sharply as Michael's tight heat surrounded him.

 

When he opened his eyes, Michael was looking up at him, his expression open and unguarded and Damien's heart pounded hard in his chest. Michael reached for him and Damien fell into his embrace and his kiss as their bodies began to move in an ages-old rhythm.

 

Damien rolled his hips again and again, pressing in as slow and deep as he could, driving their arousal and desire higher and higher. No matter how many times they did this, Damien would never be able to get enough of making love to Michael. Of being this close, as intimately joined as two people could be. It never failed to touch him deeply each and every time.

 

As they rocked together, Damien heard a soft jingling sound and he eased back from the kiss, his gaze flicking up and to the right, to the bedpost next to Michael where a chain was draped across. A chain with a familiar key attached. One that Damien had offered in a last attempt at forgiveness and as a symbol of his commitment, that had thankfully brought Michael back to him. He brought his gaze back to his partner, wanting to watch Michael fall apart beneath him, grateful once again that Michael was here with him.

 

He raised up slightly, changing the angle, pumping his hips faster now. Michael gasped, reaching up to grasp Damien's arms as he wrapped his legs around Damien's waist, tilting his hips up. Damien pushed in again, deeper now, and Michael shuddered.

 

"Harder…" Michael panted, then threw his head back with a sharp groan as Damien did so. "Oh fuck…right there, right there…" he rambled, his hands tightening on Damien's arms.

 

Damien watched as Michael's eyes darkened, his arousal reaching it's peak, his breath coming in shallow pants, on the precipice of blessed release. And Damien was right there with him, the first, sharp spike of his orgasm licking at the base of his spine. But he needed, wanted, Michael to fall over the edge first. To watch him come undone in his arms.

 

Michael's heels pressed into the small of Damien's back, trying to get him deeper. "Don't stop…don't stop…" Michael pleaded.

 

And Damien didn't, heady with the knowledge that he was the one making Michael fall apart. He saw it in his partner's eyes, the moment he shattered, an instant before Michael stiffened beneath him.

 

" _Damien_ …" he cried out as he came, his cock surging, painting his own stomach with thick, white streams.

 

The rare use of his real name was Damien's undoing and he shuddered, letting the lightning finally surge through him. He felt his cock pulse deep inside of Michael, filling his partner with slick, wet heat as he came.

 

Michael pulled him down and they held one another close as their bodies shook through their powerful release, their hearts pounding in tandem.

 

"Damien…Damien…" Michael whispered against his ear and he shivered once again at his name, only spoken now in times like this of utter privacy between the two of them.

 

Because "Damien Scott" was dead.

 

Damien lifted his head and kissed Michael long and slow as their breathing settled before easing back from it with a lazy smile, which his partner returned. It felt good to be here like this—relaxed, nowhere to be, nothing to do. It had been too long since they had made love on a regular basis, normally falling into bed exhausted each night. Damien was going to make up for it today. Again and again. In every position possible.

 

Michael reached up and ran his fingers through Damien's dark hair, longer now than it had been when they first met in Kuala Lumpur. Michael had let his sandy brown hair grow out as well, neither of them needing or wanting to project "military" in any way now.

 

"Good morning to you, too," Michael grinned. "Cheers for that bloody nice way to begin our day off," he said in his smooth British accent.

 

Damien smirked and winked, feeling his cock give a gentle throb where they were still joined. He dipped his head back down. "Oh, Mikey. We're just gettin' started…"

 

The coffee and tea were ice cold by the time Damien remembered them.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien put the last clean plate away in the kitchen cupboard and wiped his hands on the dish towel before draping it over his bare shoulder. The aroma of cooked sausage still lingered in the air from his very successful attempt at breakfast, if Michael's completely clean plate had been any indication.

 

His partner was still seated at the round table, dressed only in a pair of soft grey sweatpants and the silver chain, worn as easily as his dog tags had been, the key a gentle reminder to them both of what they had almost lost, and a symbol of the trust they had in one another.

 

Instead of eggs, bacon, grilled tomatoes, toast and tea in front of him, Michael now had a laptop, calculator and ledger books spread out on the table. It might be their day off, but they still had a business to run, and that included paying bills.

 

Damien leaned back against the counter, the thought taking him instantly back to a riverbank in Switzerland where he lay bleeding out, Michael's hands covering his own, trying to save his life, talking to his partner about going back to civilian life—paying bills, mowing the lawn, stopping at red lights. At the time he had told Michael he could never see that happening. And yet here he was, content with doing just that.

 

Michael pulled him from his thoughts as he closed his laptop and stood, walking over to stand in front of Damien, placing his hands on Damien's hips, just above the waistband of his briefs. He tilted his head.

 

"You looked miles away. Where were you?"

 

"The past," he answered, and Michael's gaze turned concerned.

 

Damien shook his head and smiled in reassurance, resting his hands on Michael's shoulders. "What do you say we get cleaned up and then later take lunch up to the falls?"

 

The arched eyebrow Michael gave him meant he knew full well exactly why Damien wanted to go up there.

 

"Don't look at me like that, Mikey. What part of the 'marathon sex plan' for today did you not understand?" he smirked.

 

Michael huffed out a laugh. "You're incorrigible."

 

Damien winked as he dropped his hands. "And that's why you love me."

 

He said it flippantly as he turned away, but caught a flash of something serious in Michael's eyes before his partner shook his head and grinned back at him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

After a shower that used up all of the hot water thanks to some…extracurricular activities, they finally got themselves dressed—tan cargo pants and maroon v-neck t-shirt for Damien and jeans and a white tank top for Michael—and set about putting together some supplies for their hike and lunch. Damien hit the kitchen again and fixed up turkey sandwiches, plus potato chips, peanut butter cookies Lupita had left for them, bottles of water and two beers while Michael gathered up their backpacks, towels and a blanket.

 

They took their supplies outside and set them down on the porch that ran the length of the house. Michael then headed off to the left, to make sure their ATVs were fully gassed up and Damien headed to the right, to the barn. He knew their stable master Paula would be by in an hour or so to feed and water the horses, but wanted to take a quick trip through to check on them.

 

The strong smell of horse and hay hit Damien as he slid open the barn door and eight heads eagerly peeked out of their stalls, looking at him expectantly. Damien chuckled.

 

"Sorry, fellas. No breakfast yet," he apologized as he walked down first one side of the barn, looking in on the four horses, then the other side, where he stopped at the first stall. He reached out to give a pat to Michael's five-year-old gelding, a beautiful paint with a white and chestnut brown coat. "Mornin', Bravo," he greeted the animal, getting a snort in return.

 

He moved on to the next stall, where a regal looking six-year-old gelding with a deep mahogany coat and a white blaze on his nose took a step closer when Damien approached. He knocked his nose against Damien's shoulder, causing Damien to take a stutter step back. He smiled and rubbed his hand on the horse's head. "Mornin' to you, too, Zero," he said, still regretting letting Michael name their horses, his partner's smart ass way of getting the last word in on their ongoing "proper way to count down" debate. Michael nearly hurt himself laughing each time Damien mounted his animal and said, "Go on, Zero."

 

Damien gave Zero a final pat and headed out of the barn. Even after a year and a half, he still wasn't completely comfortable on a horse, a city boy through and through, preferring to let Paula take the lead on their trail rides while he took the guests skeet shooting or fishing.

 

Michael was storing their gear on their ATVs when Damien walked up and Damien gave him a hand. They had everything packed in short order and fired up the machines, the engines growling in the early afternoon sun. They pointed the ATVs in the direction of the long driveway of the ranch and headed out, turning off the main road a few miles later onto a familiar trail.

 

Damien let the beauty of the wilderness wash over him as he drove—the tall trees surrounding him on both sides, the scent of pine, the rays of sunlight shining through the leaves. He hadn't always been this relaxed in an environment that reminded him too much of forests around the world where he had been running for his life, death in the form of a bullet on his heels. It had taken him months to stop looking over his shoulder, on edge, searching for enemies behind every tree and boulder. But now he was finally able to put the past behind him and enjoy the wilderness simply for what it was. Once again, how his life had changed.

 

They drove the ATVs up the mountain as far as they could, until the trail ended and only a footpath remained. They dismounted then, slung their backpacks across their shoulders and set out up the trail. They walked in companionable silence, enjoying the songbirds high up in the trees, unconsciously treading quietly, a trait still engrained in them from their days in the military.

 

A rustling in the trees to Damien's left had him holding up a hand to stop his partner, his first instinct no longer a threat assessment, but instead…

 

A deer and her fawn bounded out onto the path in front of Damien and Michael, freezing for an instant when they spied the two men, then relaxed and walked off into the woods.

 

Damien and Michael exchanged a smile. "Little Bambi there's getting big," Damien commented.

 

Michael nodded. "We'll have to let Jasmine and Aisha know we saw them," he said as they continued on their way.

 

The sun was high in the sky, the day unseasonably warm and they were both sweating by the time they reached the lookout point. They stopped when they reached the rocky outcropping, standing shoulder to shoulder as they looked down to the valley below to see their home—Trail's End Ranch—spread out before them.

 

Damien's gaze roamed over the main house, where he and Michael lived, to the five guest cabins, over to the kitchen and dining hall, then to the barn and the paddock, the skeet shooting range, and finally to the river to the east. He drew in a deep breath of the mountain air.

 

"A year and a half today, Mike," he said quietly.

 

Michael puffed out a surprised breath. "Really? Feels like it was just yesterday we drove up for the first time."

 

Damien thought of the path that had brought them to Trail's End eighteen months ago, where it started on a lonely California highway, after Michael had turned his motorcycle around and they began this journey together, side by side.

 

They had spent a week in Las Vegas with Finn, time Damien desperately needed to get to know his son, to begin the process of a familial bond that was long overdue, before a slow, week long road trip to bring Finn back home to Detroit, with promises to see one another again as soon as Damien and Michael were settled.

 

That new future ahead of them, Damien and Michael made contact with Kim Martinez's U.S. Marshal friend, Stephen Lester. At the time Kim first made contact with Stephen, only Damien needed a new identity, as Michael was planning on going his separate way. When that changed, Stephen agreed to also provide Michael with a new name, a new life, tied in with Damien's.

 

But because this was being done as a favor to Kim, it had to be off the book, so there was only so much Stephen could do. Damien and Michael weren't officially registered as part of the Witness Protection Program. Stephen was able to provide them with new IDs, a complete backstory and had employment waiting for them in Vermont. But they could have no protection from the Marshals. They were on their own. Not like they weren't used to it, having only depended on one another for years, watching each other's backs. This would be no different.

 

So they had ended up here at Trail's End Ranch, employed as adventure guides. The owner was a close friend of Stephen's, a former Marshal himself, willing to help Michael and Damien, to get them started on their new life and to keep their secret.

 

Damien brought himself back to the present and turned to his partner, studying him silently, thoughtfully.

 

Michael's brow furrowed at Damien's gaze. "What is it?"

 

Damien rested a hand on Michael's hip. "Just…wondering where I would be instead right now if you hadn't turned around on your bike back then. Given me a second chance…"

 

Michael's expression softened and he drew Damien to him, his lips just brushing Damien's. "I'm glad we'll never know," he whispered.

 

And as Michael closed the tiny distance between them and kissed him gently, so was Damien.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien's shirt was stuck to his back and chest by the time they finished the last mile of their hike and arrived at their destination. Michael's skin, too, was sheened with sweat, his partner wiping a hand over his face and then across his jeans.

 

Damien could hear the water before he saw it, a few steps before they walked through the tree line that brought them to what they nicknamed Hidden Falls. They had discovered the isolated glen not long after arriving at Trail's End and decided to keep it for themselves, to not bring any of their guests here.

 

The falls weren't large, about fifteen feet tall, but wide, the water cascading gently and smoothly over the rocks into a large pool of water surrounded by lush green grass, interspersed with wildflowers. A serene private getaway.

 

They walked to the water's edge and Michael had his backpack dumped on the ground and all of his clothes off in the blink of an eye. In the next heartbeat he was diving gloriously naked into the water, disappearing beneath the sun-dappled surface and reappearing halfway across the pool. He popped back up with a wide smile, shook his head to send water droplets flying, and swam over to the base of the falls, just off to the side, where he lay back against the large, smooth boulders. He spread his arms out wide against the rocks and tipped his head back against them, closing his eyes.

 

Damien instantly had a flash of another bare-chested Michael, arms spread out and tied, held captive in a laboratory, nearly the victim of both a neurotoxin and a deadly small pox injection. He had nearly both lost Michael and found him at the same time back then in Russia. At Black Bear prison where their relationship started, at gunpoint, forced to have sex for that sick fuck Ilyin's pleasure. But as degrading an experience as it had been, it was also the catalyst that brought them together, to finally make them confront their long buried feelings for one another.

 

Damien blinked, banishing the nightmare vision of Michael near death, replacing it with the vibrantly alive man in front of him who was smiling at him again.

 

Damien dropped his backpack and cooler to the ground, stripped off his clothes and dove into the pool. The water was blessedly cool against his overheated skin as he swam his way quickly over to his partner, needing to be close to him. He surged up in front of Michael and pulled him flush against him, one arm around Michael's back, the other cupping the nape of his neck. Their heads dipped and they met in the middle for a demanding kiss. Michael's arms wound around him as their tongues did sensuous battle, ratcheting up Damien's hunger for his partner.

 

Not breaking the deep kiss, Damien walked them to the side a few steps and back, underneath the falls, letting the water flow over them. Another step and they were behind the falls in a shallow cave, the pool of water here just over waist high. They stopped, hands roaming over slick skin, fingers flexing, gripping, trying to bring one another impossibly closer as the kiss grew in intensity.

 

Damien slanted his head, kissing Michael harder as one of his partner's hands slipped beneath the surface of the water to grasp his ass, holding him as Michael ground their groins together, their cocks hardening and lengthening as they slid effortlessly against each other in the water.

 

Damien moaned into the kiss at the friction, then pulled back with a sharp intake of breath as one of Michael's fingers slipped to the side and rubbed hard against his entrance.

 

"Fuck…" Damien breathed, tipping his forehead against Michael's shoulder as his partner's finger pressed more insistently, the tip nearly inside him now.

 

Damien moaned again and bucked against Michael, his cock fully erect now, then pushed away from his partner and turned around, breathing hard. He walked closer to the edge of the pool and braced his hands on the rocks, bending over at the waist, the invitation clear. He needed Michael inside him _now_. He looked over his shoulder and saw the heat and desire in the depths of Michael's blue-green eyes, knew his own expression mirrored his partner's.

 

Michael was on him in the next moment, the water splashing up around Damien as Michael molded himself over Damien's back. He kissed Damien hard before pulling back and trailing his lips down the side and back of his neck and across the tops of his shoulders. Damien turned and hung his head with a groan as one of Michael's hands joined in, drifting over his chest to tweak and tug on his nipples, sending jolts of pure pleasure straight down to his cock. He could feel Michael's erection bobbing between his legs in the water, bumping against his heavy balls, pressing up between his ass. He pushed back against it, trying to get Michael inside him.

 

"Mike…" he pleaded, his voice wavering.

 

Michael shifted his hips back then and his other hand slipped below the water. A moment later one of Michael's long fingers pressed against his entrance and pushed inside him. Damien raised his head up sharply, his mouth falling open as Michael began to stretch him. When a second finger joined the first, Damien couldn’t help the groan that escaped him and he shifted his hips back, trying to get the fingers deeper, feeling his cock release a burst of precome into the water.

 

"Now…Mike…" he pleaded for the second time.

 

Michael bent over again to capture Damien's mouth for a swift, deep kiss as he removed his fingers. Damien barely had time to register they were gone before Michael straightened back up and replaced them with his cock. He pressed forward and Damien gave a sharp gasp as the blunt head breached him, followed instantly by the rest of Michael's thick length as his partner filled him completely.

 

Michael's hands gripped Damien's hips as Damien's body stretched around his partner, the feeling intoxicating and arousing. His cock gave a jerk under the water as Michael began to move, sliding his cock nearly all the way out of Damien's body before pushing fully back in, in one smooth motion.

 

Twin moans echoed in the shallow cave as Michael set up a quick rhythm, pumping his hips, the water flowing around them. Damien let himself fall into the sensations his partner was creating inside him, surrounded by the intimate environment—the cool, semi-dark of the cave, the sound of the falls, the feel of the water caressing their skin like silk…heightening the experience, the arousal, Damien's body hyper-sensitive from the stimulation.

 

Michael's hands tightened on his hips as he thrust and Damien pushed his hips back in counterpoint, desperate to get Michael deeper inside him.

 

"Oh, Christ…Damien…feel so fucking good…" Michael panted.

 

"Faster…harder…" Damien ground out, eyes squeezing closed, fingers curling against the rocks.

 

Michael snapped his hips, driving himself into Damien, water swirling and rippling around them and Damien gave a sharp shout, Michael's cock finding the spot inside him that made him shake. His cock throbbed hard, releasing more precome into the water as he felt the tidal wave of his release build swiftly deep inside him.

 

Michael's rhythm abruptly faltered and Damien knew his partner was on the brink himself. He pushed back hard onto Michael's cock and his partner shuddered.

 

" _Damien_ …" he groaned, draping himself over Damien's back again, still thrusting.

 

One of Michael's arms wound around his chest, holding him close, and Damien felt his heart pounding against Michael's palm, while Michael's other hand slid down into the water, between Damien's legs.

 

"Come with me…" Michael breathed as his hand wrapped around Damien's cock.

 

Two firm, quick strokes from his partner was all it took for the wave of release to sweep Damien away. He came hard with a harsh cry that mingled with Michael's own, bouncing off the rock walls. His cock pulsed again and again against Michael's palm as he spilled into the water as Michael spilled into him, his cock surging deep inside him.

 

Michael trembled against him with the force of their release, his heart beating rapidly against Damien's back, matching the tempo of Damien's own. Damien reached behind him with one hand, holding on to his partner until they were spent.

 

Michael exhaled slowly, wrapping both arms around Damien, holding him in his embrace for a long moment. Damien tipped his head back, resting it against Michael's, curling one of his hands around Michael's forearm, soaking in their closeness, their connection, made stronger each and every day.

 

Slowly, Michael eased his softening cock from Damien's body. Damien made a soft noise at the loss, but Michael quieted his protest by turning him around, drawing him into another embrace and kissing him languidly. Damien let himself drift into the kiss, into Michael's touch, as their hands smoothed gently, unhurriedly, over wet skin.

 

They let the kiss gradually end, resting their foreheads together until Damien turned and led Michael to the edge of the pool and out of the water. They walked several feet back into the cave to the large, dark blue waterproof inflatable mattress they left there every summer, for times like this when they weren't quite ready to go back out into the world and break the intimacy they had created. Quieter back further away from the falls, they had fallen asleep here many times, letting the day drift by, wrapped around one another.

 

Michael lay down on the mattress on his back, holding his hand out for Damien. Damien followed him down, pressing up alongside him to blanket half of his partner's body, tangling his top leg between both of Michael's, his arm resting on Michael's chest.

 

This anniversary of sorts had Damien stuck in the past today. Looking down at Michael looking up at him with such complete and utter openness and trust it made him remember his partner's quiet conversation with Oskar in a cabin in the Swiss countryside, when he thought Damien was asleep. The conversation where Michael confessed that he'd rather die a soldier than have to love or care about anyone.

 

Damien touched the key resting against Michael's smooth skin, then cupped the side of Michael's face, brushed a thumb across his cheek.

 

"Are you happy?" he whispered.

 

Michael gave him a small smile, but Damien could see the confusion laced with concern in his eyes at Damien's question.

 

"You know I am," Michael answered softly. He paused, his next words hesitant. "Are you?"

 

Damien understood why Michael asked the question in return. He knew this was the normal life he had always envisioned for them, but what had sent Damien running.

 

As much as it had hurt then, on that hillside in Switzerland, Michael had been right to call him out on his cowardice and the pain he had inflicted upon Michael because of it—turning his back on him with no explanation, replacing him with Julia in his bed. All because of his own stupidity and insecurity, running from his feelings instead of acknowledging how deeply they ran for Michael. Afraid that he would only fuck up the best thing that had ever happened to him. And Michael deserved so much better than that. Better than him.

 

But the sudden, sharp realization that he may never again have Michael in his life had been the wake up call he needed. He finally admitted to Michael how wrong he had been, asking for a second chance to make things right. To have that future Michael had pictured for them both. Miraculously, in the end, just when Damien had given up all hope and watched Michael ride away from him, his partner finally accepted the key and all that it symbolized. Damien hadn't been able to contain his smile or his laugh as Michael pulled up alongside he and Finn, knowing his partner had forgiven him, was willing to put his trust in Damien again.

 

But Michael had been right with what he had said back on that hillside. It had taken effort on both their parts to make this work. Michael had never been in a relationship with a man, and Damien had never had a relationship that lasted more than a few months. Things were rocky and they had their share of arguments and misunderstandings as they felt their way through this uncharted territory.

 

Looking at Michael now, though, he had absolutely no regrets and he would spend every day making sure Michael never had any as well.

 

Damien nodded. "I am," he reassured his partner. "Even though this isn't the path I ever saw my life taking." He gave a wry grin. "Hell, I never thought I'd even live this long." He brushed his thumb across Michael's cheek again. "But I'm glad I'm here. With you." He swallowed against the sudden emotion rising inside him. "Thank you, Mike."

 

Michael's brow furrowed. "For what?"

 

"For giving me a second chance I didn't deserve."

 

Michael shook his head, smiling gently up at him, raising up a hand to curl lightly around the side of Damien's neck. " _We_ deserved it. We made it through hell. We were due some happiness. Together."

 

Michael drew him down, their mouths meeting for a long, slow kiss that that reinforced his words and that Damien reciprocated, his heart light.

 

But when they eased apart, it was Damien's turn for concern when he saw the same serious look in the depths of Michael's eyes that he had seen a flash of at breakfast. Before he could ask what was wrong, Michael spoke, his voice gruff.

 

"I'm not just happy, Damien. I…" he swallowed hard, as if gathering up the courage to continue. He took a breath. "I love you."

 

Hearing those words for the first time rocked Damien to his core. He had tried to say them once himself, nearly two years ago, but they had stuck in his throat. Michael had understood, though, and answered himself without words. It had remained unspoken between them ever since, but was apparent in their actions every day.

 

So why had Michael chosen now to put voice to what was evident between them? And then it hit Damien like a punch to the gut, driving the breath from his lungs. Michael had been waiting all this time for confirmation that Damien was happy. That he wanted to be here. That he wanted this normal life. The commitment Damien had promised him with the key.

 

Damien startled, pulled from his thoughts when Michael shifted abruptly beneath him, trying to move away, his partner's expression gone cloudy, hurt and disappointment in his eyes. Damien had been silent for too long, and Michael had taken it for rejection.

 

"No. Mike, no." Damien reached out and grasped his partner's shoulder, halting him.

 

Michael shook his head, glancing away. "It's okay. I shouldn't have…"

 

" _Yes_ , you should have. I’m sorry that I made you doubt me. But this…this is forever. I promise."

 

And then the words were there, Damien realizing now that it hadn't been the right time back then for him to say it, what with all that transpired after between he and Michael. His partner would never have believed him. But now…

 

"I love you, Michael."

 

Michael's smile was blinding, the hurt and disappointment vanishing, his blue-green eyes clear and shining now. His laugh bounced off the rocks, joined by Damien's as Michael rolled them over and captured Damien's mouth for a kiss that left no doubt in Damien's mind that the last barrier between them had come down.

 

When they parted, a pleasant tiredness spread throughout Damien's body, his limbs heavy. The combination of amazing sex and an emotional release had left him drained. Michael sighed tiredly himself, touching his lips to Damien's one more time before settling next to him, head on Damien's shoulder, one arm across Damien's chest. Damien rested his head against his partner's, wrapped an arm around Michael's back and closed his eyes, drifting off to the soft sound of the water and the warmth of his partner.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They didn't sleep long, just over an hour, woken by the sound of Damien's stomach grumbling loudly. Michael just chuckled and shook his head and led them back into the water and through the falls, emerging out into the bright summer afternoon. An impromptu swim race to the other side of the pool left Michael the victor, but left Damien with a view of his partner rising out of the water in front of him like Poseidon, gloriously wet and naked. Damien decided that was a win in his book.

 

They dried themselves off with the towels they brought and pulled on just their briefs. Michael spread out the blanket and Damien spread out their picnic lunch on top of it. Damien stretched out on the blanket and took a large bite of his sandwich. "Hey," he said, swallowing. "Meant to tell you. Got an email from Kim yesterday. She's finally going to be back Stateside in a couple weeks. We need to invite her out here."

 

Michael nodded, taking a long swallow of his cold beer. "Yeah, brilliant, absolutely. Been too long since we've seen her." His expression dimmed and he set the bottle down. "Wish we could invite the rest of the team here."

 

Damien averted his gaze, looking out over the water. The weight of the loss they had suffered, the sacrifices their friends had made that allowed he and Michael to live would always remain with them. A debt they could never repay.

 

Silence hung heavy in the air until Damien chuckled quietly and looked back at Michael. "Can you just picture Sinclair on a horse?"

 

Michael grinned. "Sinclair? What about Locke?"

 

They burst out laughing at the same time, the sad moment lightened.

 

Damien popped a potato chip in his mouth. "Though I can see Baxter landing a trout or two."

 

Michael reached for a cookie. "Grant would own the skeet shooting range, hands down."

 

Damien nodded. "And Julia would kick our asses at—"

 

"Everything!" Michael laughed.

 

They smiled warmly, if a bit sadly, at the memories of their teammates before Damien lifted his beer bottle, his voice somber and steady.

 

"To our freedom…and our fallen."

 

Michael raised his bottle, his voice just as strong and respectful. "To our freedom…and our fallen."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_I love you, Michael_

 

The words echoed in Michael's head as he drove his ATV down the main road back to the ranch. He hadn't truly realized what hearing those words from Damien meant until he almost didn't hear them. When Damien hesitated, the pain came rushing back all over again, making Michael question the trust he had placed for a second time in his partner's hands.

 

He chastised himself for his knee-jerk reaction. He had blindsided Damien. Hell, he had blindsided himself, Damien's off-hand remark in the kitchen that morning surprising him by settling deep in his chest.

 

_That's why you love me, Mikey_

 

It had been on the tip of his tongue to say it right there. _I do, you know. Love you._ But something held him back. It wasn't the right moment, so he tried to push it down, but the urge remained, just below the surface. Until Damien opened the door again.

 

_Are you happy?_

 

And then he couldn't take the words back, still questioning himself why he even needed to say them. Damien proved it to him every single day. Michael touched the key beneath his shirt. Had since they rode off down that California highway, side by side.

 

But deep down a kernel of doubt had apparently taken root, waiting for Damien to change his mind and leave again without a word, realizing that this "normal life" Michael wanted wasn't what he wanted after all.

 

But hearing Damien say that he was exactly where he wanted to be and repeating Michael's declaration back to him—it closed the final distance between them he hadn't even known was there until it was gone.

 

Michael turned to look at his partner, riding along at his side, as always. Damien smiled and winked and Michael grinned.

 

No, this wasn't the exact path he envisioned his life taking either, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

 

Pulling up to the entrance of the ranch drew Michael from his musings. He slowed his ATV and stopped in front of the mailbox. He flipped down the hinged door and withdrew the packet inside. He gave a quick flip through at the magazines and envelopes addressed to S. SULLIVAN and M. KANE. The names still sometimes gave Michael pause—their new identities.

 

Technically, Michael hadn't needed a new identity. He wasn't the one that was officially "dead". But once he had made the decision to turn his bike around on that California road and follow Damien, they couldn't take the risk that a unique name like Stonebridge wouldn't be a red flag to anyone who might be keeping an eye on him from Whitehall, and in turn would lead them straight to Damien.

 

Knowing the first thing that could compromise you on any undercover assignment was not responding when your name was called, Michael decided to keep his generic first name but let the U.S. Marshals come up with a new last name for him. Thus "Michael Kane" was born.

 

His partner, on the other hand, needed a complete change, as "Damien" was too distinctive of a name for him to keep. They both figured that since he was so used to responding to just "Scott" from Michael and his military career in general, he'd adopt it as his new first name. And that is how "Scott Sullivan" came into existence.

 

Michael pulled Damien's new issue of Guns N Ammo magazine from the pile and tossed it to his partner.

 

Damien's eyes lit up. "Sweet!"

 

Michael chuckled and tucked the rest of the mail into his backpack behind him and restarted the ATV. He looked up at the Trail's End Ranch sign as he drove underneath of it, remembering the very first time he'd done so. Vermont would not have been his first choice for relocation, but they owed a debt to Kim and her Marshal friend Stephen for helping them, at a considerable risk to themselves for an off the book operation like this, so he and Damien went where they were told. And honestly, it was the right call. Who would think to look for Michael here, the last place he would have chosen for himself, which also kept with how the Marshals normally relocated people in the first place. But Stephen had actually had a very specific reason for sending them here that they were initially unaware of.

 

Michael looked over at Damien again, his partner totally at ease in their new environment. Though it hadn't always been that way. Truth be told, it was rough on them both for quite sometime, trying to adjust to their new life. They had been soldiers their entire adult lives and trying to transition from that back to civilian life wasn't easy.

 

It wasn't long before they became restless, missing the action, the danger, not accustomed to such menial tasks as cleaning out horse stalls and using a riding lawnmower. Michael adjusted after a few months, but not so for Damien. They began to drift apart, Damien growing ever distant, and Michael felt that his partner resented him for trapping him in this normal life, one of the reasons he had originally run from Michael. As painful as it was, Michael told him it would be best if they went their separate ways. He only wanted Damien to be happy, and that obviously wasn't here, with him.

 

It was apparently the shock to the system Damien needed, realizing he was pushing Michael away again. He finally confided that it wasn't Michael at all. Damien felt useless. He didn't have a purpose, no longer trying to save the world on a daily basis. They sat and talked and in the end Michael had come up with the solution. He saw how good and at ease Damien was with any children that came to the ranch and remembered the way he had been with the little girl in India on their first mission, and later with Esther. And now with Finn. He suggested talking with Rick Anderson, the owner of the ranch, about setting up a program for underprivileged kids to come out, learn about the wilderness. Rick had enthusiastically agreed and it was the focus Damien needed, to be in charge of something, working with these kids, that finally settled him, knowing he was making a difference again. And in the process, it brought them back together again, united in their new life.

 

A dark purple Jeep Wrangler caught Michael's attention as he rode up and then he spied the owner, standing outside the paddock, where Bravo, Zero and another horse were out, the latter being saddled. Paula turned from her horse Henry and waved at Michael and Damien as they approached.

 

Their stable master, Paula Cavill, was 30 years-old, with long blonde hair, currently tied back in a ponytail and mostly hidden underneath her dusty chocolate brown cowboy hat. She was dressed in her usual attire of a pastel plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, well-worn jeans covered by brown leather chaps, and brown cowboy boots. She had been working at the ranch for five years and was a kindred spirit—she, too, was an off the book witness protection case.

 

Michael and Damien had discovered that Rick Anderson had been Stephen Lester's training officer and then partner for nearly ten years in the Marshal service before Rick retired and opened up Trail's End. Rick and Stephen had seen too many good people failed by the system over the years, and Rick decided that he could finally do something about it—by using the ranch as a safe haven that these people deserved but couldn't officially get. It was only supposed to be a temporary stop over. A place for these people to get their feet under them, get used to their new identity and set off, but Paula had stayed. She discovered her love of equestrianism and now lived ten miles down the road, their closest neighbor, running her own stable, giving riding lessons. Neither of them an experienced horseman, Michael and Damien contracted out to her for all of their trail rides and general care of the horses.

 

It wasn't until Michael and Damien took over running the ranch that Rick confided in them Paula's circumstances, with her consent. They never asked her what situation brought her under Rick and Stephen's protection, nor did she ask them. The more you knew, the more dangerous it could be for everyone. All they knew was that she had an extensive background in computer programming and got mixed up in something she was unaware of until it was too late, and it sent her on the run. It was enough to know they were all in the same situation and could depend on each other with no questions asked. They had become trusted friends.

 

"Hey," Paula greeted them with a cheerful smile, giving a last tug on the belt cinching Henry's saddle firmly to him.

 

Michael and Damien pulled their ATVs to a stop and turned them off before dismounting and walking over to Paula.

 

"How's it going, PC?" Damien gave her a cheeky grin and Michael rolled his eyes at the nickname his partner had bestowed upon her, her initials perfect for a former computer specialist.

 

Damien thought it was cute. Paula, however, did not. She gave him an annoyed, long-suffering glare before suddenly breaking out into a wide smile.

 

"Good boy, Sullivan! Good boy!" she called out.

 

Michael had to stifle a laugh at _Damien's_ now annoyed look as Paula's new dog, an adorable 2-year-old Australian Shepherd came trotting up, carrying a stick. She squatted down beside him as he dropped the stick at her feet and she rubbed her hands over his striking black, white, grey and auburn mixed fur.

 

"Look what Sully learned," she smirked up at Damien as the pup let out an excited bark, evidently pleased with himself, his bright blue eyes shining.

 

"At least there's one Sullivan around here who's bright," Michael cracked.

 

Damien's mouth dropped open. "You, too, Michael?"

 

"What?" Michael said innocently.

 

"She named her dog after me, dude!"

 

Michael shrugged, trying to keep the grin off his face. "Guess you shouldn't have given her that ridiculous nickname." He clapped Damien on the shoulder. "Never cross a woman, mate. Payback's a bitch! Though Paula did say that Sully is a very common Australian name. I'm sure it's just a coincidence." He tipped his head. "Though he does have your eyes…"

 

Paula and Michael shared a laugh as Damien threw his hands up in mock disgust. Paula stood and tossed the stick again and Sully raced off with another happy bark.

 

"Heading out?" Michael asked her.

 

Paula nodded. "Want to make sure that wind we had last night didn't knock anything onto the trails before your guests get here tomorrow."

 

"Sounds good," Michael replied. "Call us if you need help moving branches." He pointed to his right. "Anything need doing in the barn while you're gone?"

 

"Actually, yeah," she said. "Could you bring down some fresh hay from the loft for the stalls?"

 

"Will do," Michael answered as Paula turned her attention back to her horse.

 

She ran her hands over his long neck, patting his midnight black coat, rubbing her hand over his velvet nose before planting a quick kiss there. "Ready to go to work, boy?"

 

"Why is it that women love horses so much?" Damien spoke up, a hint of amusement in his voice.

 

Paula looked over her shoulder as she placed one booted foot in the stirrup. "Because there's nothing like having 1,200 pounds of rock hard muscle between your legs," she smirked, smoothly lifting herself up and mounting Henry.

 

Damien barked out laugh then looked Michael up and down. "Well I sure as hell can't argue with that," he winked.

 

A blush spread across Paula's cheeks and Michael smacked Damien on his arm. "You're such a tosser," he muttered, which caused Damien to laugh even harder.

 

Michael ignored his juvenile partner and turned to Paula. "Come see me when you get back. We'll get the schedule sorted for tomorrow."

 

She touched two fingers to the brim of her hat with a grin. "Will do, boss!". Then with a flick of her reins and a nudge to Henry's flanks, she rode off, Sully bounding along after her.

 

_Will do, boss!_

 

It had been six months, but it was still strange for Michael to hear. It had been the best decision he and Damien had made, though. When Rick decided to relocate to Florida, to spend the rest of his retirement years in warmth and sunshine, he asked them both to stay on and run Trail's End, to continue on with the safety net it represented for folks who needed it. Rick had seen how he and Damien had taken to the ranch after a year of living and working there, knew they were dedicated to his cause as well and felt confident leaving it in their capable hands if they wanted it.

 

Michael and Damien had been honored by Rick's trust in them and hadn't hesitated to accept his offer. Like Paula, they had really settled in here. They liked the wide open space on the mountain compared to the close quarters of city living, a hold over from their military lives, always trekking through one landscape or another. Neither wanted the feeling of being penned in, also agreeing it would be much easier to maintain their new identities by limiting their interactions with others. And they truly believed in the good work Rick had been doing for others for so many years. Their decision to stay had been an easy one.

 

Damien strolled in front of him, pulling Michael from his musings, and he followed his partner into the barn. They walked down the center of the stalls, all of the horses now munching happily on their feed, and climbed up the ladder to the hay loft. They moved to the closest bales and began tossing them over the low wall and onto the barn floor below them. The heat of the day was concentrated in the loft and both he and Damien were sweating within minutes, their shirts stripped off and hanging on the handle of one of the pitchforks as they continued their strenuous work for the next twenty minutes.

 

Finally satisfied they had enough hay for all of the stalls, Michael took a breath, wiped his hand down his damp face and grabbed a broom to sweep the loose hay into a pile, catching Damien out of his peripheral vision moving to do the same behind him.

 

He hadn't taken more than a few swipes with the broom when Damien called out to him.

 

"Hey, Mikey."

 

Michael paused and turned, his mouth going instantly dry at the sight before him. Damien was sitting on the top of two hay bales, relaxing back against a much taller stack, his cargo pants and briefs down around his ankles, legs spread as wide as he could get them, his semi-hard cock rising as he rolled his balls in their sac. He winked at Michael.

 

"How 'bout a roll in the hay?"

 

All of Michael's blood rushed south, directly to his groin, taking away his ability to give a proper comeback to his partner's ridiculous idiom. He let the broom fall and was across the floor in three long strides, his body never failing to respond to Damien's blatant, wanton sexuality, craving it, and the intimate connection between them it brought.

 

He straddled Damien, still standing, then bent over and claimed his partner's mouth for a bruising kiss, his hands on either side of Damien's head. Damien responded in kind, surging into the kiss, moaning as their tongues sparred, his hands gripping Michael's hips. Michael pulled back abruptly after a long minute, breathing hard. Damien's face was flushed, his lips wet, and he tried to pull Michael back to him but Michael slipped out of his grip and dropped to his knees in front of him instead.

 

He practically tore off one of Damien's boots and freed Damien's foot from his pants and underwear, allowing Michael to move fully between his spread legs. Michael ran his hands up Damien's slick skin, brushing over the smattering of soft, dark hair on his torso and chest. Then his fingers danced over the large tattoo on his partner's side that Michael had turned into an erogenous zone for him. He traced over the intricate design and Damien arched up into the touch, reaching for Michael again. This time Michael let his partner draw him close, dipping his head to mouth at the sensitive spot behind Damien's ear and down the long column of his neck. Michael lapped at Damien's skin, tasting the salt in his sweat, breathing in deep. Damien smelled of the fresh outdoors, the sweetness of the hay and his own masculine scent. Michael licked again on the spot where shoulder met neck and bit down gently.

 

"Fuck!" Damien hissed, jerking his hips upwards, pressing his fully hard cock against Michael's chest and stomach, leaving a trail of sticky precome.

 

Damien tried to hold Michael's head in place, wanting more, but Michael slid downwards, sitting on his heels. He ran his hands up Damien's muscular thighs, his fingers skimming over the small scar from their first mission, stopping to hold onto Damien's hips as he bent his head down. Damien's heat and scent were concentrated here and he inhaled as he mouthed at his partner's balls, hanging heavy in their sac.

 

Damien sucked in a sharp breath, one of his hands landing heavily on Michael's bare shoulder, squeezing and releasing as Michael continued the stimulation until Damien shifted restlessly beneath him.

 

"More…" he ground out. "Suck me, Mike…"

 

Michael lifted his head at the plea, Damien's clear blue eyes blown wide with arousal, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

 

"Please…" Damien breathed.

 

Michael needed no further encouragement, his own arousal climbing by the moment. He rose up slightly, one hand sliding from Damien's hip to the base of his cock where it curled around the straining length, hot against Michael's palm. Michael's thumb pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves under the swollen head and Damien gasped as it throbbed and released another stream of precome. Michael bent his head down then and guided Damien into his mouth, sucking hard, his partner's taste exploding across his tongue, his deep groan mingling with Damien's.

 

The weight and feel of Damien's cock against his tongue never failed to take Michael back to a hotel room in Russia, the first time he had tasted his partner, the first time he had tasted any man.

 

Michael knew from his early teenage years that he had tendencies toward the same sex but it never went further than fantasies about his classmates, unwilling to be labeled and possibly ostracized. His attraction only grew during his time in the military, surrounded by men every day. But still he resisted, taking up with Kerry instead. He had suffered the pain of losing mates in combat, and he was unwilling to establish an even deeper emotional connection, sure he would not be able to survive the loss.

 

And then Damien Scott steamrolled into his life with all the finesse and subtlety of an Abrams tank. He hated the brash American on sight, believing him nothing more than a pussy chasing prick. And worse, a disgrace to the uniform.

 

It hadn't taken long, though, for Michael to see beneath the asshole exterior Damien projected and to realize he was the most dedicated, fearless, loyal soldier Michael had ever known. Damien had seen the same in him, and there was no denying the bond that formed between them, stronger than any Michael had ever had with anyone.

 

The attraction was undeniable as well, but still Michael resisted acting on it. He had suffered through the deaths of Porter, Kate, Kerry, Grant, Sinclair and Baxter. His teammates continuing to fall around him further strengthened his resolve to not become emotionally and physically involved with Damien, positive now the loss would destroy him.

 

But then Ilyin shattered everything, forcing he and Damien to confront their long-buried feelings for one another. And once the dam had broken, there was no stopping the floodwaters.

 

The ride on that river had not been an easy one that carried them to the here and now, but, Michael mused as he came back to the present, things worth fighting for rarely were.

 

Michael blinked, his attention back on his partner, wanting nothing more than to watch him fall apart, to come undone. He opened his mouth wider, taking in as much of the thick length as he could, until the head bumped the back of his throat. He sucked hard around it and Damien jerked, his fingers threading through Michael's hair, flexing.

 

Michael pulled back, nearly all the way off Damien's erection before bobbing his head down the length repeatedly. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking on the head, pressing his tongue hard against the bundle of nerves, reveling in the feel of Damien, steel wrapped in silk. Michael's hand joined in, stroking as Michael sucked and Damien gave a strangled groan at the added stimulation, his cock throbbing in Michael's mouth.

 

Michael's own cock was throbbing as well, trapped painfully in the confines of his briefs and jeans, leaking precome. He desperately wanted to touch himself but would wait for his own release until he swallowed down Damien's own.

 

"Mike…oh fuck, Mike…"

 

Michael cast his gaze upward at Damien's hoarse whisper, watching as his partner's head tipped back, his mouth falling open with a moan, eyes squeezed closed, his back arching as he spread his legs wider, his hips trying to thrust upward. The erotic sight hit Michael hard and he felt the first, sharp stirring of his orgasm curling low in his belly.

 

Another stream of precome coated Michael's tongue and he knew Damien was on the brink of release as well. Striving to push him over, Michael hummed around Damien's cock, squeezing it at the same time. The reaction was immediate. Damien's entire body shuddered, his cock swelling against Michael's tongue an instant before his partner let go with a sharp cry up to the rafters. Michael's mouth was flooded with Damien's most intimate taste as his partner came hard in thick streams. Michael swallowed eagerly, drinking down Damien's release until his own could no longer be denied.

 

He pulled up and off, letting Damien's cock slip wetly from his mouth as he tore at the button and zipper of his jeans. He shoved the offending material down just far enough to release his erection as he stood on shaky legs to lean over Damien's bare chest, one hand braced on the pile of hay bales. He jerked his cock, the key jangling on the chain around his neck, his climax rushing up at him when Damien sat up, breathing hard, still shuddering from the end of his own. Before Michael could blink, Damien leaned forward and sealed his mouth over the swollen head of Michael's cock and sucked. The sudden and unexpected feeling of wet warmth surrounding him was Michael's undoing. He came in long pulses, emptying himself in his partner's mouth, his shout of completion just as loud as Damien's.

 

Michael shivered when Damien slowly released his spent cock, looking down at him with a crooked grin, which Damien returned with a wink. He tipped his head then, toward the low wall of the hay loft and then Michael heard it, too—the sound of the horses knickering and moving around in their stalls, apparently irritated at having their mealtime interrupted by the commotion upstairs.

 

Damien threw his head back, hooting out a laugh as he smacked Michael's ass. "Ride 'em cowboy!"

 

Michael shook his head as he bent down to give Damien a short kiss before straightening up and taking a step back. He eyed his partner up and down, taking in his disheveled appearance. Damien's sweat-soaked nearly naked body was covered in hay, his pants down around one ankle and missing one boot. Michael knew he didn't look much better.

 

He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Oi, let's go. Let's get this finished and get cleaned up." He put his hands on his hips. "You're taking me to dinner in the city."

 

Damien's head flopped back against the hay. "Michael…" he whined.

 

Michael expected the protest. It was always a struggle to get his blunt, rough around the edges partner to agree to go into town. Damien in his flannel shirts and scuffed up jeans butting heads with the chino, polo shirt wearing unsuspecting citizens was always an adventure. Damien thought the preppy yuppies were all full of themselves and would rather stay on the mountain and have a beer and a burger from the grill instead of wine and surf and turf in a "proper" restaurant.

 

But Michael wasn't taking no for an answer this time. So he resorted to what Damien responded to best. Bribery.

 

Michael stepped up close again and leaned over, his lips near Damien's ear, his voice pitched low. "If you expect this 'marathon sex' to continue for the rest of the night, then I'm going to need to keep up my stamina. So if you know what's good for you, you'll bloody well feed me."

 

Damien sat up so quickly he nearly knocked his head into Michael's. In the next split second he had jumped up, stuffed his leg back in his pants and briefs and made a beeline for the ladder, still missing one boot, trailing pieces of hay behind him.

 

Michael crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. Worked every time.

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Paula returned just as he and Damien finished mucking out the stalls. Hot, tired and dripping with sweat, they took a break as she hitched Henry outside and then joined them in the barn. Sully found a patch of shade near the door, flopped down and promptly went to sleep.

 

Paula nodded her head approvingly at their progress. "Nice job, boss!"

 

Michael ran a hand through his damp hair. "How's everything look up the trail?"

 

"Good," Paula replied with a nod. "Couple small branches down, nothing major. I got them out of the way."

 

"Cheers," Michael answered. "The five of them are arriving tomorrow and have booked the trail ride for Friday morning, 10:00 am. Scott and I will join you, too."

 

"No problem. Henry and I will be ready!" She took her hat off and gestured at the fresh hay waiting to be spread in the stalls. "Let me give you a hand," she said, setting down the hat and grabbing up another pitchfork.

 

Between the three of them they had the stalls sorted in short order and all of the horses back in the barn. They stowed the pitchforks away and Paula picked up her hat again and settled it on her head as she turned to leave.

 

"See you Friday, boss!"

 

"Thanks for the help, PC!" Damien called after her with a smart ass grin.

 

Without turning or breaking her stride, Paula held up her hand and gave him the finger. Damien threw his head back and laughed.

 

Michael shook his head in exasperation, his mouth twitching as he fought not to smile. "She learned that from you, you know. You're a terrible influence."

 

Damien's mouth dropped open. "Are you kidding me, dude? I'm a _great_ influence." He threw his arms out to the side. "Just ask Finn!"

 

Michael arched an eyebrow. "I rest my case."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They trudged out of the barn a few minutes later, wiping their sweaty, dusty faces with their discarded shirts. They grabbed the last two bottles of water still in the cooler on the back of the ATV and drank them down without coming up for air. They put the empty bottles back in the cooler and without a word took their dirty, hay-covered bodies down to the end of the house and then around the side. Their destination—the outdoor shower.

 

Rick had it installed not long after opening the ranch, tired of dragging in dirt and muck through the house to get to the bathroom. It was very basic, just a tall pole on a five-by-five foot concrete square with a rain shower head attached, with two simple chest-high free standing wooden panels on either side, providing a modicum of privacy.

 

Michael began shedding his remaining clothes as Damien reached in and turned the water on. Then as Damien undressed, Michael flipped open the lid on the wooden box next to the shower and withdrew two clean towels and a small bottle of shower gel. He handed the gel to his naked partner as Damien stepped into the shower and then hung the towels on the posts of the partitions.

 

Michael sighed wearily as he stepped under the spray next to Damien. The water was cool against his overheated skin and he closed his eyes and tipped his head up, letting it rain down over him. He felt Damien's touch and blinked open his eyes, watching as his partner ran his hands slowly through Michael's hair then just as slowly down over his shoulders, back, arms and chest, smoothing away the dirt and sweat. Michael smiled softly and reciprocated, gliding his hands over the well-defined planes of his partner's muscular body before closing the small distance between them and kissing him lazily. Their arms wound around each other as the water gently flowed over their naked bodies for long minutes.

 

Damien eased back from the kiss and bent down to retrieve the bottle of shower gel from near their feet. He popped the cap, poured a generous amount into his palm and set the bottle back down. He rubbed his hands together to start a lather and then reached for Michael.

 

Michael sighed again as his partner washed him from head to toe, stopping for a kiss or a caress, Damien's torso turning just as soapy as Michael's from the contact. By the time his partner turned him around and began washing his back, Michael's eyelids had grown heavy. Too much sun, too much physical labor and yes…too much sex today was catching up with him. It would be so much easier to stay in tonight. Pop open a couple beers, throw a couple burgers on the grill…

 

Damien stepped in close, massaging Michael's shoulders and Michael groaned quietly, melting into his partner's touch. Damien leaned in, kissing down the side of his neck, his stubble tickling Michael's skin, and he tipped his head back, his desire for a dinner out steadily washing away like the soap suds.

 

Damien's voice was a quiet rumble next to his ear.

 

"You're tired. Why don't we just stay in tonight…"

 

Michael's eyes popped open. Oh, Damien was good. The sneaky wanker. He knew exactly how to get Michael to relax and agree to whatever he wanted when his defenses were down. It was Damien's superpower that Michael was apparently unable to fight back against. But not this time. They hadn't had a day off in over a month and Damien was damn well going to wine and dine him.

 

Michael turned around. "Good try, mate." He winked, moving to the side and smacked Damien's ass as he snagged his towel and stepped out of the shower. "Wear something nice!" he called out over his shoulder.

 

Damien's muttered "Fuck…" had Michael smiling all the way into the house.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael looked his partner up and down as they left the house a few hours later. Michael's idea of "nice" and Damien's obviously differed. Michael was dressed in a pale blue dress shirt, navy blue sport coat, dark blue jeans and dress shoes. Damien had chosen a slightly wrinkled dark grey button down shirt, faded jeans and his boots. Michael's mouth quirked and he shook his head, but he didn't complain, as Damien had at least made an effort.

 

"So where are we going?" Damien asked as they mounted their identical pair of cobalt blue Softail Harley Davidson motorcycles.

 

"L'Eiffel Bistrot," Michael answered and Damien hung his head. "Don't worry, there's plenty on the menu to satisfy your carnivore appetite," he reassured his partner as they fired up the engines with twin growls and headed off down the driveway.

 

It was a perfect night to be out on the bikes, riding through the trees, the scent of pine in the air, the wind in their faces. Michael never felt more alive than on the back of a bike, and the same could be said of his partner, which is why he was in a better mood by the time they reached the city.

 

They drove slowly down the main street, shops and restaurants on either side, the sidewalks busy with locals and tourists alike, enjoying the summer evening. They pulled into the bistrot's parking lot shortly, found a shared spot for their bikes and went inside.

 

The interior was of classic French décor and for an instant Michael felt transported back to Paris, where he had been stationed briefly in his early military career. A pleasant aroma wafted from the direction of the kitchen, mingling with the soft sound of music playing in the nearly full main dining room.

 

The maitre d' gave them a choice of seating—inside or out on the patio. They chose the patio and were seated at a table for two with a view of the mountains to their side, left with menus and a wine list.

 

Their waiter arrived shortly afterwards, introduced himself as Sebastian and brought water and a basket of fresh, warm bread and an olive tapenade spread. He took their drink orders—a beer for Damien and a glass of wine for Michael—and returned promptly with them just as they finished making their dinner selections from the menu. Not surprisingly, Damien chose the steak frites. Michael went with the bouillabaisse.

 

After Sebastian departed with their orders, Michael relaxed back in his seat and took a sip of his wine while Damien did the same with his beer. They sat in companionable silence as they enjoyed their drinks and slices of bread, watching the sun start its descent behind the mountains.

 

Sebastian reappeared again with their food, and even Damien's eyes lit up at the sight and smell of his steak. Michael's seafood stew looked equally delicious.

 

"Cheers," Michael said to Sebastian with a smile as he picked up his spoon.

 

Sebastian nodded. "Enjoy, gentlemen," he said and took his leave.

 

Michael watched as Damien cut off a piece of his perfectly cooked steak and took a bite. He immediately paused and Michael chuckled at his expression.

 

"Good, isn't it?"

 

"Wow," Damien muttered around his mouthful. "That's really fucking good."

 

"Told you," Michael said as he took the first spoonful of the flavorful broth.

 

"Yeah, yeah," Damien grinned and tucked back into his steak.

 

Conversation flowed easily between them as they ate, mainly centered on ranch business until Damien brought up a phone call he'd had with Finn yesterday. Michael listened as Damien proposed having Finn be a junior adventure guide when he came to visit in three weeks, which coincided with the next outing of "Scott's Scouts", which he called his group of kids.

 

Michael sat back and smiled warmly as Damien talked about his son. After what Finn had been through in Thailand and North Korea, he would have had every right to never want to have anything to do with Damien again. But instead, it forged a bond between them. Michael was sad that his partner had missed out on so much of Finn's life, but he was doing everything now to make up for it. And including Michael in everything.

 

After Kerry's miscarriage and death, Michael's hopes of having a family vanished. But then Finn had come into Damien's life, and by extension, Michael's. Even though he had no blood ties to Finn, Damien always asked Michael's advice and they made decisions together, as if Finn was Michael's son as well. As untraditional as it was, Michael had the family he never thought would be possible. And he cherished every minute of it.

 

"So, what do you think, Mikey? That be okay with you?"

 

Michael blinked and let his smile widen. "I think it's brilliant. Finn will be a great junior guide," he said, grateful that there were no teenage girls in this next group that Finn would surely try and charm. Like father, like son.

 

They enjoyed a dessert of warm fruit crepes and an after dinner scotch before leaving the bistrot. Damien turned toward their bikes but Michael stopped him.

 

"Fancy a walk?" he asked, not quite ready to leave the city yet.

 

"Don't you mean a 'gentle stroll'?" Damien teased, repeating Michael's own words back to him from a rooftop in Johannesburg. Damien swept an arm out in front of him. "Lead on."

 

Michael took them down to the riverwalk, Damien enjoying a smoke as they went, the sweet smell of tobacco tickling Michael's nose. Michael's gaze took in the people around him on the sidewalk. Many of them were couples, both men and women and same sex—holding hands, arms around each other's waists, sharing a quick kiss.

 

Michael glanced at his partner as they stopped at the railing, looking out over the river, at the brilliant sunset reflected on its surface. They would never be the PDA, hand-holding type. They would never be that traditional couple—their relationship born out of blood and violence and death instead of dinner dates and long walks on the beach. And that was okay. They didn't need to conform to society's standards. They had been a pair of renegades for years.

 

Still studying his partner, Michael's conversation with Oskar came back to him, how he'd told the old man that he was glad he was a soldier, that he didn't have to love or care about anyone, and he hoped he died as one, because without that life he was nothing. It was all he had.

 

Looking at Damien now, Michael was reminded once again how wrong he had been. He was no longer a soldier, yet he had everything in the man standing next to him and the life they had created.

 

The weight of Michael's gaze drew Damien's attention and he turned to him, a question in his blue eyes. "What?" he said quietly.

 

Michael shook his head with a small smile. "Nothing."

 

He looked away from Damien, back toward the river, and was jostled by a couple trying to get to the railing. He suddenly felt the press of people around him and it made him claustrophobic. He'd had enough of the city. The solitude of the mountain was calling to him.

 

Michael knocked his hand against Damien's. "Ready to go home?"

 

Damien's gaze roamed over Michael, undressing him with his eyes. A sly smile crossed his face. "Oh hell, yeah."

 

Michael felt warmth spread in his belly at Damien's blatant desire, and as he joined his partner back on the sidewalk he was glad he'd had that big dinner. He was going to need all the energy he could spare.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

An hour later, Michael and Damien were back at Trail's End, comfortably ensconced on the back deck off of their bedroom, each reclining on padded chaise lounges. Michael was wearing only his grey sweatpants and Damien was similarly attired in a pair of comfortable red cotton shorts. Both of them had their laptops out, sipping from glasses of whiskey that sat on the small glass table between them, next to two bottles of water. At the end of the deck a fire was burning cheerfully in the fire pit under the starry, moonlit sky, casting them in warm shades of red and yellow.

 

A twig cracked in the woods off to Michael's left but he paid the noise no mind, well accustomed now to the sounds of the wildlife moving around in the forest. But there was a time not long ago when hearing a sound like that had both he and Damien dropping into a crouch and reaching for weapons that were no longer there, expecting an enemy attack instead of an innocent raccoon. It was another indication of how far they'd come in their civilian lives to no longer flinch at the natural, nocturnal sounds of the forest.

 

Michael listened to the small animal as he scrolled through their new guest's paperwork, making notes and going over the schedule. The five of them had chosen nearly every activity the ranch offered—trail ride, fishing, whitewater rafting, ATV excursion, rock climbing and camping. The only option they hadn't chosen was skeet shooting. He and Damien were going to be running for the next three days, without a doubt. As were Jasmine and Aisha, on housekeeping duty, as the men had booked all five of their guest cabins instead of doubling up, as each cabin had two queen beds, plus a fold-out couch.

 

"Well fuck me!" Damien suddenly laughed.

 

Michael looked up just as Damien looked over to him, a wide grin on his face.

 

"Just got an email from Finn. He got accepted to the University of Vermont!"

 

Michael's answering smile was just as wide. "That's fantastic, mate! I know you two really wanted that. Guess we'll be seeing a lot more of him."

 

Damien's smile dimmed, his voice quieting. "Are you going to be okay with that?"

 

Michael looked at him in confusion. "Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

 

Damien sighed. "Because you never signed up to help raise a teenager, Mike. It's one thing to have Finn halfway across the country and only visiting us a few times. But now he'll be a more permanent fixture in my life. And yours. I know you've been okay with how things have been, and I don't want to push you for more than you're comfortable with…"

 

Michael's features softened at his partner's concern. He set his laptop aside, rose and stepped over to Damien, also setting his computer on the deck. Then he straddled his partner, sitting on Damien's thighs, his knees resting on the chaise lounge. He curled a hand around the side of Damien's neck, his thumb rubbing gently.

 

"Listen to me when I say this, honestly and truly," Michael began, his voice soft. "I _want_ Finn to be a permanent fixture in my life as well. I love that your relationship has grown to the point that it's even a possibility. And I love this instant family I've fallen into. That you both have brought me into with no hesitation."

 

Damien swallowed and Michael could see in the depths of Damien's blue eyes how much his words meant to him. Damien leaned forward and rested his forehead against Michael's chest, his arms winding around Michael's back, holding tight. Michael tipped his head down and kissed the top of Damien's, resting there until his partner moved back, a long moment later.

 

Damien's hands dropped to Michael's waist. "Finn told me the other day how much he looks up to you, Mike. He thinks of you as another father."

 

The knowledge hit Michael hard in his chest and he swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. "I could say the same about him. He's an amazing kid, Damien. To go through all that he did and then telling him about us, about what our relationship really is…that was a lot for anyone to handle all at once, let alone a 16-year-old. And yet he didn't hesitate to accept us both." He paused. "I would be proud to consider him my son as well."

 

Michael saw the last of the weight Damien had been carrying about Michael and Finn finally lift from his shoulders with his words. Michael reached out and framed Damien's face with his hands.

 

"I don’t think I tell you this enough," he said softly. "But you and Finn, this family, and what we have here…it's everything I've ever wanted."

 

Moisture appeared in the corner's of Damien's blue eyes as Michael leaned in. "Mike…" he whispered, just as their lips touched.

 

Damien instantly surged up into the kiss, his arms wrapping around Michael again, hands splayed against Michael's bare back, pulling him close. Michael felt his partner's emotions in the kiss and he responded in kind, opening his mouth and letting the kiss deepen. Damien made a soft noise as their tongues did a slow dance and Michael returned his embrace.

 

Michael's body never failed to ignite at Damien's kiss, his touch, and tonight was no exception. His blood thrummed in his veins as the kiss grew in intensity, their mouths parting only to come back together again and again. Damien's hands drifted downward, under the waistband of Michael's sweatpants to cup Michael's ass. Michael gave a quiet moan and rocked his hips forward, pushing their groins together, his cock beginning to harden. He felt an answering hardness as he continued to rub against Damien and he slipped a hand down between their bodies to caress Damien's cloth covered length.

 

Damien groaned at the touch and tried to buck up into Michael's hand. Michael broke the kiss then, breathing hard, and leaned back slightly. He tugged the front of Damien's shorts down with one hand and curled his other around his partner's full erection, squeezing slightly, his thumb pressing against the underside of the swollen head. Damien gasped and fell back against the chaise lounge, his eyes glassy, his breathing just as fast as Michael's.

 

"Fuck, Mike…" he groaned.

 

He stroked Damien's cock hard and fast, so warm against his palm, desperately needing that thick length inside him _now_. He leaned over Damien, still stroking, his mouth against his partner's ear.

 

"What did you say earlier about riding…?"

 

Damien's eyes widened. "Jesus Christ…" he ground out as his cock throbbed in Michael's hand and released shiny pearls of precome.

 

Michael winked and kissed Damien hard before abruptly releasing his cock and rising from the chaise. He tugged Damien's shorts off first, tossing them away, then shoved his sweatpants down his hips and kicked them to the side. His cock jutted out proudly from his body as he straddled Damien once again, picking up where he left off and stroking Damien's cock.

 

Damien threw an arm out to the side, his hand blindly reaching for one of the bottles of water, nearly knocking over the glasses of whiskey in his haste. He tore the cap off and poured some of the lukewarm water over his cock and Michael's hand. Michael released him then and rose up on his knees, reaching behind himself with his wet hand and slid two slick fingers inside himself.

 

Damien watched as Michael stretched himself, blue eyes gone dark with arousal as he stroked his own erection. "Yeah…" he whispered.

 

Impatient to have Damien inside him and his body loose from all of their activity today, Michael withdrew his fingers after only a moment. Damien poured more water over his cock as Michael moved up his body, just past his erection. Michael reached behind himself again, this time for Damien's cock, holding it steady as he sank down upon it.

 

He bit his bottom lip as the swollen head breached him, hearing a groan from Damien, his partner's hands settling on his waist. Michael drew out the moment, always aroused by the first sensation of Damien entering him, working himself slowly down Damien's entire length until he was sitting flush on Damien's groin.

 

He paused then, his heartbeat rising, gripping Damien's shoulders, reveling in the feeling of fullness as his body stretched around his partner's rock hard cock.

 

"Damien…" he breathed, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment.

 

Damien's fingers flexed against his hips and he opened his eyes, feeling his heart stutter at the raw desire on Damien's face. He moved then, rising up on his knees and Damien's mouth opened slightly, drawing in a quick breath as Michael let nearly his entire length slip from his body before sinking smoothly back down.

 

Michael's moan was echoed by Damien, fingers digging into skin as Michael rode Damien hard. He pushed down, trying to get Damien deeper as Damien thrust his hips upward in counterpoint, over and over.

 

Michael felt light-headed, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat as they made love, his orgasm curling low in his belly. But Michael never wanted it to end, this intimate connection, as close to Damien as he could possibly be. And as he looked at his partner he saw the same emotion reflected back at him, getting a glimpse under Damien's tough-as-nails exterior how open and vulnerable he was in Michael's arms.

 

Damien touched the key dangling from the chain around Michael's neck then cupped the side of his face. "Mike…love you…"

 

Michael's release surged through him with the force of a freight train. His sharp cry echoed into the night sky before Damien pulled him into his arms and sealed his mouth to Michael's. Michael's cock pulsed between their bodies, coating their stomachs with thick streams. Damien groaned into the kiss a moment before Michael felt his cock throb deep inside him again and again, filling him with heat.

 

Michael moved back from the kiss to bury his face against Damien's shoulder as they shook against one another, holding each other close until the tremors subsided. Long moments later, Michael felt Damien's heartbeat slow against his chest, his hands running slowly up and down Michael's back. He lifted his head then, meeting Damien's soft gaze.

 

Michael kissed him and smiled, utterly relaxed. "Have we reached the finish line of the marathon today?"

 

Damien chuckled and glanced up to the sky. He gave Michael one of his patented smirks and a wink. "Oh, there's still plenty of hours 'til morning, Mikey…"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was back to business as usual the next day, but Michael trudged a little slower than normal into the kitchen at 6:00 am, lured by the smell of frying bacon, wearing just his usual grey sweatpants. He watched as Damien, too, moved a bit more…gingerly, and his mouth quirked. They had finally worn themselves out just before midnight, falling asleep in an exhausted heap, tangled around one another. Michael could almost feel Damien's warmth still surrounding him. But as much as he appreciated the last twenty-four interrupted hours with his partner, he was going to need an extended period of recovery time before their next day off.

 

"What's got you grinning so early?"

 

Michael blinked and smiled as Damien handed him his mug of Earl Grey tea and then walked a bit stiffly back over to the stove, wearing just his dark green boxer briefs.

 

"Shall I get you a cushion to sit on, mate?" Michael joked.

 

Damien shot a look over his shoulder, noticing Michael still standing next to the kitchen table. "Oh, like you've got room to talk there, buddy."

 

Michael raised his mug with a grin. "Touché."

 

He took a careful sip of the hot liquid before setting the mug down on the table and walking over to Damien at the stove. He stood behind his partner, his bare chest just brushing against Damien's back. He rested his hands lightly on Damien's hips as he leaned in.

 

"Thank you for yesterday."

 

Damien flicked a glance over his shoulder as he turned the bacon and moved the scrambled eggs around the pan. "Oh trust me, the pleasure was all mine, Mikey," he wisecracked.

 

Michael smiled against his partner's ear then whispered, "Damien…"

 

"Hmmm?"

 

Michael shrugged. "Just…one more time…"

 

Damien paused and leaned back against Michael, his expression gone soft in understanding.

 

A few times in the past Michael had caught himself nearly saying his partner's real name when they were out in public, so Damien suggested that to keep it easier on Michael he should call him Scott all of the time. But Michael declined. It might be just a name, but "Damien" was all his partner had left of his real self and Michael would not let him lose that. And Damien's expression told him without words how grateful he was that Michael turned down his suggestion, especially when he said his name as they made love.

 

Damien straightened up and switched off the flame under the eggs and bacon. He turned to face Michael, bringing their bodies flush together and cupped Michael's ass with one of his hands.

 

"You know," he smirked. "We've got over an hour before anyone gets here." He squeezed Michael's ass and brushed a thumb over one of Michael's nipples, then started walking backwards toward the bedroom. He paused in the doorway and shoved down his briefs. "Wonder how many more times I can get you to say my name…"

 

Ten minutes later Michael had lost count.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Although Michael wasn't complaining, their early morning tryst had now put them very much behind schedule and he and Damien had barely finished their hastily reheated breakfast when they heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up. Thankfully they were already showered and dressed, and Damien went outside while Michael put the dishes in the sink and wiped down the table.

 

Finally ready to begin the day, Michael walked out onto the porch and saw that it was Paula who had arrived first, to feed and water the horses. She was chatting with Damien while Sully ran around underfoot. Michael went to join them when a second car pulled up. He smiled widely in greeting as it came to a stop and its four occupants stepped out—the Cole family. The driver, Isaac, a tall African American man in his late-fifties with close cropped hair just starting to go grey and skin the color of midnight raised his hand and returned Michael's smile. His wife, Lupita, as short and round as Isaac was tall, her skin a few shades lighter, came around from the passenger side. Their two daughters, Jasmine and Aisha, slid out of the back seat. Jasmine, 20, and Aisha, 18, were the perfect mix of both of their parents.

 

Isaac and Lupita had worked on the ranch for nearly ten years. Isaac was the all-around handyman and Lupita the chef. Their daughters, both attending the University of Vermont, helped out with housekeeping and cooking on the weekends and during their holiday breaks from school. The family's help was invaluable to Michael and Damien and they were grateful that the Cole's had no hesitation about staying on after Rick retired.

 

"Morning!" Isaac called out cheerfully.

 

"Morning," Michael replied as Damien walked over. "Enjoy your day off?"

 

"That we did," Lupita answered. "And you boys?"

 

Damien coughed, hiding his smirk behind his hand and Michael elbowed him, feeling his face warm. "It was lovely," Michael said, stepping forward and kissing Lupita on her cheek. "Thank you for leaving the cookies and for showing Scott how to cook a proper English breakfast."

 

Lupita smiled and glanced over to Damien. "Well, he's a bit of a slow student but I'm glad he finally caught on," she joked.

 

"Hey!" Damien protested with a laugh. He turned to Jasmine and Aisha. "Speaking of students, Finn just got accepted to the University of Vermont."

 

"Oh, that's great!" Jasmine smiled. "Good for him. He'll like it here."

 

Aisha's face broke into a wide grin. "Really? If he needs someone to show him around, I'd be more than happy to," she volunteered.

 

Michael smothered a grin at her eagerness. He'd seen a few sparks fly between Finn and Aisha the last few times he visited. This might get interesting. Michael saw the same fact suddenly dawn on Damien and his partner was at a loss for words.

 

Trying not to laugh, Michael cleared his throat and changed the subject. "We saw Bambi and her mom yesterday."

 

The girls' faces lit up. "Oh, wonderful!" Jasmine said. "I was getting worried when we hadn't seen them in over a week."

 

"Where did you spot them?" Aisha asked, tucking a strand of long black hair behind her ear.

 

"On our way—" Damien began and Michael elbowed him again.

 

"A ways up the mountain," Michael finished.

 

Aisha cocked her head. "On your way up to your hideout?" she teased.

 

Jasmine smacked her sister's arm. "Aisha!"

 

"What?" Aisha said innocently, trying not to smile and failing. "You know they've got a secret love nest up there!"

 

"Oh my God," Jasmine covered her face with her hand and tugged her sister away.

 

Aisha winked at Michael and Damien. "I think it's adorable!" she whispered, giggling, letting Jasmine lead her away, toward the guest cabins.

 

"Girls!" Lupita shook her head in exasperation.

 

Damien's face was a faint shade of pink, the same as Michael's. He cleared his throat as he took a step backwards, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. "Umm…I'm just gonna go help PC with the horses. Isaac, can you come take a look at the latch on Bravo's stall?"

 

Isaac chuckled. "Sure thing," he replied and followed after Damien, adjusting the straps on his overalls.

 

Michael cleared his throat as well, looking at Lupita and sweeping his arm out toward the dining hall. "Shall we?"

 

Lupita grinned at him and stepped in close for a moment. "I think it's adorable, too," she winked and walked away.

 

Michael just hung his head and laughed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next several hours were a flurry of activity at the ranch. Damien helped Paula with the horses, getting them fed and out in the paddock, then inspected all of the saddles and tack for the trail ride the next day. Isaac gave a thorough once-over to all of the ATVs, making sure they were fully gassed and in working order and then checked that all of the fishing supplies were ready to go as well. Aisha and Jasmine worked their way through each guest cabin, making sure everything was tidy and in order, leaving Welcome cards and itineraries on the beds. Michael sat with Lupita, going over the menus for the next three days and then drove into town with her in the ranch's Land Rover to purchase all of the groceries.

 

By the time they returned and had gotten all of the food stored away in the dining hall's large kitchen, Michael was hustling, their guests due to arrive any time now. He had received a voicemail on his phone while out with Lupita from his bank, needing him to log into his account and confirm a transaction, so he hurried into the house, turning on his laptop on the kitchen table as he went into the bedroom to change his sweaty shirt. He was just pulling a clean one over his head when his computer chimed. Curious as to what needed his attention, Michael finished dressing and walked back over to his computer.

 

What he saw on the screen made his blood freeze in his veins, a chill racing down his spine. It had been so long since he had set the alert to inform him of a specific name he had forgotten all about it. But now that name from his past was staring him in the face—Sir Charles Ridley.

 

He was looking at a news article from The Times of London with a photo of Ridley, stating that he was making a play for a seat in Parliament.

 

The rest of the words blurred on the page as a tidal wave of anger and rage flooded through Michael, as if Locke's murder at the hands of this man had been only yesterday. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white as he stared at Ridley's smug face. He finally jabbed a finger onto the keyboard, closing the alert, then slammed the laptop shut and shoved himself away from the table, turning sharply on his heel, needing to talk to Damien.

 

His jaw clenched, he shoved open the screen door and strode toward the barn, seeing his partner just walking out.

 

"Scott!" he shouted, his voice high and tight.

 

He could tell by his partner's expression he immediately knew something was wrong by the tone in Michael's voice, and he started to jog over, only to stop himself as a black SUV pulled up the drive. Their guests had arrived.

 

With considerable effort, Michael took a long, slow breath and released his anger. Now was not the time. He needed to focus on the present, with his guests, not on a ghost from his past.

 

Forcing Charles Ridley from his mind, Michael put on a smile and walked over to the SUV as it pulled to a stop.

 

Five men slid out, smiles on their faces. All of them were in their mid to late thirties, fit and well-built, mostly clean cut with a bit of stubble, short hair ranging from blond to ginger to jet black, a few tattoos on their arms, nearly the same height as Michael and Damien. They were all wearing what was obviously brand new jeans, flannel shirts and boots.

 

Damien stepped up next to him and murmured, "Looks like we've got ourselves a bunch of greenhorns, Mikey."

 

Michael couldn't help but chuckle at the incongruous sight of a group of physically fit men looking around like they'd never seen trees before.

 

Michael stepped forward, his hand extended as Paula and the Cole family also joined he and Damien to meet the new guests.

 

"Welcome to Trail's End," he said. "I'm Michael Kane and this is my partner Scott Sullivan."

 

One of the men, who could nearly be Isaac's twin, started the introductions. "Nice to meet you. I'm Tyson Higgins."

 

One by one, Michael and Damien shook hands with the rest of men—Brandon Chung, Vince Rawlings, Jimmy Cooper and Amir Rashaan.

 

"And allow me to introduce Paula Cavill," Michael continued. "She's our stable master and will be leading your trail ride tomorrow."

 

Paula tipped her hat. "Fellas. I'll bring you by the paddock later and get horses chosen for all of you."

 

"Sounds good," Jimmy said, raking a hand back through his blond hair, the corner of his mouth quirking in a smile that he held until Paula averted her gaze, a tinge of pink on her cheeks.

 

"And this is the Cole family," Michael said. "Isaac is our handyman, Lupita is our talented chef and Jasmine and Aisha are in charge of housekeeping."

 

"Nice to meet you all," Lupita smiled. "I'll be sure to feed you boys good while you're here."

 

"Looking forward to it," Brandon spoke up. "I'm an amateur chef myself."

 

"Oh, best be careful of what you say!" Lupita laughed. "I just might put you to work!"

 

Brandon gave a half bow. "I'm at your service ma'am," he grinned.

 

"Dinner will be served in a few hours. We'll be eating outside tonight. Get your taste buds ready for some barbeque."

 

"Mama's brisket is the best," Aisha piped up, getting chuckles from the new guests.

 

Damien stepped forward. "Isaac and I will help you with your bags and Jasmine and Aisha can show you to your cabins. Get yourselves settled and we'll see you for dinner. If you need anything just let one of us know. Michael and I live in the main house. You can stop by anytime."

 

There were nods all around and it wasn't long before the bags were sorted and the men were unpacking in their cabins. Then it was all hands on deck in the kitchen to help with dinner, Damien getting his hand smacked more than once by Lupita for "sampling".

 

Lupita finally shooed both Michael and Damien out so that they could tend to their guests, and they found the five men at the paddock fence with Paula. Vince had his phone out and was taking photos of the horses and the barn as Paula spoke to all of them.

 

"How's it going, guys?" Damien asked as they walked up.

 

"Great," Amir answered, pushing his sunglasses up on the top of his thick, black hair. "Paula here was just finishing choosing horses for us."

 

"She's got quite the eye for our physiques." Jimmy winked at Paula and she ducked her head.

 

"Have to be sure you fit the horse and the horse fits you, that's all," she explained with a guarded smile. She turned to Michael. "We're good to go for tomorrow, boss."

 

"Cheers," Michael nodded, making note of Jimmy's apparent interest in Paula. He'd be keeping an eye on that. His gaze swept over all of his guests. "How are your cabins? Any problems?"

 

"Nope, it's all good," Vince replied, still taking photos, now wearing a baseball cap over his red hair. "I'm just glad you had five so I don't have to listen to any of these clowns snore," he cracked.

 

" _Us?_ " Brandon laughed.

 

Before Vince could come back with a retort, the clear, sharp sound of the chuckwagon dinner bell sounded. They all looked over toward the dining hall where Lupita stood on the step, striking the metal hammer against the triangle.

 

"Come and get it!" she called out.

 

She didn't need to ask twice and Michael chuckled as the men made a beeline for the long picnic table that could easily seat twelve, just outside the dining hall. Aisha and Jasmine were just finishing putting out the place settings as they made their way over and sat down. Michael and Damien helped bring out baked beans, coleslaw, potato salad, fresh bread, salad and of course the brisket and ribs with homemade barbeque sauce. Lupita and the girls helped serve everyone and bring out pitchers of ice tea and water, then left Paula and the men to their dinner.

 

Everyone tucked into the delicious food with hearty appetites, and Michael heard appreciative noises from around the table.

 

"Gonna need some extra time at the gym when I get home for sure if this is how we're gonna be eating for the next three days!" Tyson laughed as he picked up another rib.

 

Michael turned to Brandon, sitting next to him, who had been the one to fill out the online booking form. "Speaking of home, I saw your address is in Illinois. Are you all from there?"

 

Brandon nodded, swallowing a mouthful of potato salad. "Chicago. We all go to the same gym. It's how we met. Been buddies for years."

 

"Decided to ditch the city and take a trip somewhere together," Jimmy added from where he sat down the table across from Paula.

 

"Wanted to do something completely different from what that city offered," Amir said. "Do things we can't do there."

 

Michael expected Vince to pipe up next, but he was busy on his phone again, apparently texting someone. Instead it was Damien who spoke.

 

"Well you guys picked pretty much every activity we offer, so get ready for a busy few days going all over this mountain," he grinned.

 

Tyson raised his glass of ice tea and made eye contact with everyone, lingering a bit longer on both Michael and Damien.

 

"To an adventure none of us will ever forget!"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next morning dawned clear and bright and warm, and Damien donned his sunglasses as he walked toward the barn, patting his belly, currently pleasantly full of Lupita's waffles, bacon and eggs. Everyone else had cleaned their plates at breakfast as well, and were now eager for their trail ride, chatting amongst themselves as they entered the barn.

 

Paula had been busy while everyone ate, saddling up all of the horses, and Zero stood waiting for him patiently in his stall. He fished several carrots out of the pocket of his jeans, which he had snuck out of the refrigerator in the dining hall, Lupita none the wiser. He patted Zero on his neck, holding up one of the carrots.

 

"Mornin', boy. Ready to go to work?"

 

Zero snorted as he ate the first carrot, then pushed against Damien's arm, wanting another. Damien quirked a grin and handed over the other two carrots.

 

"For a bloke who doesn’t like horses, you sure spoil him."

 

Caught, Damien turned to his partner, who stood next to him at Bravo's stall, smirking at him.

 

Damien felt his face heat up and he wiped his hand against his dark brown t-shirt. "Whatever, dude."

 

"You're such a softie," Michael teased.

 

Damien stalked over behind his partner and fit his groin against Michael's ass. "You didn't think I was so soft this morning," he breathed against Michael's ear, still feeling himself surrounded by his partner's tight heat.

 

It was Michael's turn to turn a shade of pink and he cleared his throat, looking down the barn where their guests were gathered around Paula. "Oi! We're _working_ here, mate," he warned.

 

Damien pushed against Michael a little harder. "Oh, I'm working on something alright," he quipped, sliding his hand just up under the hem of Michael's snug sky blue t-shirt.

 

Michael rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You are _such_ a wanker," he hissed, trying to keep the disapproving frown on his face but when Damien waggled his eyebrows at him he gave up and chuckled, shaking his head.

 

Damien leaned in for a quick kiss and gave a squeeze to Michael's ass before turning his attention back to Zero. He opened the latch to the stall. "What was PC saying about having rock hard muscle between your legs?" he winked over his shoulder as he led his horse from the barn, Michael's laughter following him.

 

He took Zero over to the gate of the paddock, where he stood watching his guests climb the few steps up to the mounting block and sit down on their chosen horses, one by one, under Paula's supervision. She adjusted the stirrups appropriately for the length of each men's legs, showed them how to hold the reins and how to guide the horses left and right. It wasn't long before all five men were ready to go, smiles on their faces, Vince once again with his phone out, taking photos of everyone. Michael joined him with Bravo and Damien put his foot in Zero's stirrup, held onto the pommel with one hand and smoothly pulled himself up, his other leg swinging over the saddle as Michael did the same with Bravo. He settled himself comfortably and picked up the reins just as Paula raised a hand.

 

"Good to go, boss!"

 

Damien nodded. "Take 'em out, PC!"

 

Paula led the procession out of the paddock, looking every bit the experienced rider in her customary cowboy hat, lightweight flannel shirt, chaps and boots, compared to everyone else in jeans and t-shirts. Sully trotted along beside her, being careful to keep well out of the way of the horses hooves. The trail horses followed instantly behind Henry, well used to these rides, needing no prodding from their riders. Damien situated himself and Zero in the middle of the line, with Michael and Bravo bringing up the rear.

 

It was a leisurely walk partway up the mountain, through the trees, with a view of the valley and river below. Damien watched Vince and Jimmy in front of him. For a couple of guys who had never been on a horse before, they were doing well, if sitting a bit stiffly in the saddles. Vince continued to take pictures of the ranch from this new perspective and Damien hoped he didn't fall off his horse because he was too busy with his phone.

 

Jimmy had maneuvered himself to the front of the line, right behind Paula, and was chatting her up as they walked, though Damien couldn’t hear what was being said. Damien's eyes narrowed as he watched the interaction. Even though he teased Paula, he truly cared about her, felt a bit protective of her. And if she was not welcoming the attention Jimmy was paying her, he would put a stop to it. He had noticed Michael also giving Jimmy the side-eye yesterday, so he wasn't the only one wanting to make sure their guest wasn't acting inappropriately toward their friend and making her uncomfortable. He made a mental note to talk to Paula when they returned, to ask if she wanted either he or Michael to intervene. Though Damien honestly hoped it was the opposite. Paula was a wonderful girl and deserved to be paid attention to and flirted with. She spent too much time alone and Damien wanted nothing more than for her to find someone to make her happy, like what he had with Michael.

 

"Scott?"

 

Damien pulled himself out of his thoughts at Vince's voice, realized they were at Jameson's Point. The red-head was pointing to his left, to a clearing they were just coming upon, where a small cabin sat.

 

"Does someone live there?" Vince asked, then raised his phone to snap a few pictures.

 

Damien shook his head. "No. This is one of several cabins up here maintained by the forestry service for use by hikers who might be stranded, lost, hurt. Especially in the winter. It's fully stocked with non-perishable food, blankets, cots, a first aid kit and a CB radio."

 

Vince nodded thoughtfully, scanning the area. "Good to know," he said.

 

Damien pointed to their right. "And just down below is where we'll be going rock climbing."

 

"Can't wait for that!" Vince smiled and turned back around.

 

Damien looked over his shoulder at Brandon, Amir and Tyson, the three men also taking note of the cabin as they passed by and Amir turned to speak to Michael, pointing at it, most likely asking him the same question Vince had.

 

"Enjoying yourself?" Damien asked Tyson, who rode directly behind him.

 

Tyson flashed him a smile. "Hell yeah, man! Certainly can't do this down Michigan Avenue. I feel like I'm in a western!"

 

Damien chuckled. "Glad you're having fun, John Wayne."

 

Damien turned forward and glanced around. He'd never really thought about it but yeah, he did kind of feel like a cowboy in a movie out here. He wondered how he'd look in a cowboy hat. Then he smirked to himself. Better yet, he wondered how _Michael_ would look in one. And nothing else.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The procession returned to Trail's End almost two hours later. Damien had to suppress a chuckle watching all of his first-time rider guests dismount from their horses with groans and walk stiffly down off the mounting block. He'd felt the exact same way after his first ride. And second. And third. But at least everyone was still smiling. He might have to get them all cushions to sit on at lunch, though.

 

Damien swung himself off of Zero as Michael did the same with Bravo. Their guests were gathered around Paula, thanking her for the ride and petting Sully.

 

She touched the brim of her hat. "My pleasure. I'm glad you all enjoyed yourselves."

 

"We've got a few hours until lunch," Michael addressed the group. "Scott and I need to tend to the horses, so you all can just relax. There's cold drinks and beer in the kitchen in the dining all. Feel free to help yourselves."

 

"Mind if we wander around? Do some exploring?" Brandon asked.

 

"Yeah, absolutely, go for it," Damien answered.

 

"Take care if you go down by the river, though. The water's running high," Michael told them. "Don't need any of you lot falling in!"

 

They laughed and started to walk away but Jimmy leaned in toward Paula. "Will you be around for lunch?"

 

Damien watched Paula give a little shrug and smile. "Maybe."

 

Jimmy grinned and jogged to catch up with his group and Paula watched him go. When she turned back, Damien was still looking at her. She cocked her head and put her hand on her hip.

 

"What?"

 

Damien laughed and shrugged. "Nothing."

 

She shook her head at him as she started leading Henry past him toward the barn. He dipped his head as she drew up beside him, making sure Michael couldn't hear him.

 

"Hey, do you have an extra hat…?"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Over the next hour or so, Damien and Michael helped Paula get the horses unsaddled, fed and watered and back in their stalls and all of the tack put away in its place. The day had grown warmer and they were all sweating by the time they were finished. Paula and Sully headed back to her place to get cleaned up while Damien shared a cool shower with Michael. Which went a little longer than it should have after Michael told Damien he'd better finish what he started in the barn. So Damien was refreshed in more ways than one when they walked back out of the house in clean, fresh clothes, his stomach starting to rumble.

 

Damien spotted Aisha and Jasmine once again setting out plates and glasses on the picnic table. The girls waved at them as he and Michael walked toward the dining hall, Michael drinking from a bottle of water. Their guests were nowhere to be found, but Isaac was tinkering with the large riding lawnmower. Damien noticed that Paula hadn't returned yet.

 

"'Bout time you boys got here!" Lupita shook a finger at them as they entered the kitchen. "Lunch isn't going to serve itself!"

 

Michael shot Damien a sideways look. Okay, maybe their shower had taken a lot longer than it should have. But Michael had started it! He opened his mouth to come up with an excuse that didn't have to do with the…mutual pleasuring that had been going on.

 

But Lupita cut him off. "Don't even bother. I'm sure I know exactly what you two were up to."

 

Michael nearly choked on his water but Lupita never broke stride. She shoved two loaves of freshly baked bread at Damien. "You, start slicing these." She slid two empty pitchers at Michael. "And you, get the ice tea and lemonade."

 

Damien gave her a wide grin. He loved this woman. She was the mother he wished he'd have had. "Yes, ma'm!" He saluted sharply and immediately got down to work, smiling the entire time. And pretending not to notice the warmth and teasing in Lupita's brown eyes.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

In short order, Damien and Michael brought out trays of lunchmeat, cheese and bread along with lettuce, tomato, pickles, mayo, mustard and potato chips. Lupita carried her homemade peach cobbler for dessert. And Jasmine and Aisha followed along with the pitchers of ice cold drinks just as their guests walked up from the direction of the river.

 

"Well that was good timing," Amir said as the five men joined Damien and Michael at the table.

 

"Thanks!" Tyson held up a hand to Lupita and the girls as they stared to walk back to the kitchen.

 

"I'm starved," Brandon stated as he reached for a couple of slices of bread.

 

"Did you have a good look around?" Michael asked as he began fixing his own sandwich.

 

Amir nodded as he placed a pile of roast beef on his bread. "This is a great place. I can see why you like it out here."

 

Damien poured himself a glass of lemonade, noticing that Vince once again had his nose buried in his phone, texting again, and that Jimmy sat at the far end, the bench empty across from him. He kept glancing toward the parking area as he made his sandwich. It was obvious he was hoping Paula would come back to the ranch for lunch.

 

Michael swallowed a bite of his ham sandwich and looked down the table. "I know you said you all met at a gym. Do you work there together?"

 

Amir shook his head. "No, I'm an entertainment journalist."

 

"I own my own carpentry business," Tyson said.

 

Brandon raised his hand. "Financial planner here. But I'd rather have my own catering company."

 

"I'm an auto mechanic," Jimmy spoke up and then pointed at Vince, still oblivious to the conversation around him. "And he's in IT."

 

Tyson leaned forward. "He's also the only one of us that's married and the wife keeps him on a short leash. So…texting."

 

"Constantly," Brandon added, rolling his eyes.

 

"And that's why I'm staying single." Amir raised his glass and his three friends clinked theirs against his.

 

"Here, here!"

 

Michael and Damien shared a laugh with them but as Damien looked over at his partner, at the smile in his blue-green eyes, he knew no longer being single was the best thing that ever happened to him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

After lunch the group split up. Tyson, Amir and Vince went with Michael for an ATV ride while Jimmy and Brandon would go with Damien for an easy hike and then some fishing.

 

Damien waved at Michael as the four men roared off down the main drive of the ranch and then turned to his two guests. He clapped his hands together.

 

"What do you say we bring back some trout for dinner?"

 

Brandon smiled. "If it will give me a chance to spend some time in the kitchen with Lupita, then I'm all for it!"

 

Damien grinned and looked at Jimmy, who in turn was still glancing over to the parking area. Paula had never shown up for lunch, and now Damien was a bit concerned. He took out his phone.

 

"I need to make a quick call. Why don't you guys head down to the shed? Isaac's there and he can get you set up with your gear."

 

"Sounds good," Brandon said, nudging Jimmy, and the two men walked off.

 

Damien pressed Paula's speed dial number on his phone and listened to it ring twice before she answered.

 

_"Hey, boss."_

 

"Hey. Just wanted to check in. Didn't see you at lunch. Everything okay?"

 

_"Yes, sorry. Had some folks stop by inquiring about lessons. Got busy."_

 

Damien tried to read her voice, if that's truly all it was, or if Jimmy was coming on too strong. "No problem. We're having fish tonight. You're more than welcome to join us for dinner you want."

 

_"Thanks, boss. I'll try and be there."_

 

"Okay, then," Damien replied and they ended the call. It would be telling, one way or the other, if Paula did or didn't come back to the ranch tonight. If Damien needed to have a talk with Jimmy. He didn't need one of his guests scaring off his employee and friend.

 

Damien put his phone back in his pocket and pulled his focus back to his guests. He joined Brandon and Jimmy at the shed where Isaac was handing out fishing poles, tackle boxes and bait. His guests were already wearing their waders. Damien pulled on his own waders, then grabbed his backpack and withdrew his baseball hat, leaving the bottles of water, his pack of cigarettes and his lighter inside. He put the hat on, then the backpack and slipped his sunglasses on.

 

"Thanks, Isaac," he said as he took his own pole and tackle box from him.

 

"Hope them trout are biting," Isaac said with a smile. "Miss Lupita is getting things ready for a fish fry tonight."

 

Damien clapped Isaac on his arm. "No pressure there at all!" he said and Jimmy and Brandon laughed.

 

Damien laid his pole on his shoulder. "Okay, fellas. Let's go catch our dinner!"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was a scenic twenty minute hike upstream along the riverbank to Damien's favorite fishing hole. The water was calm here, before it turned into the rapids just below the ranch. He got himself, Brandon and Jimmy set up with bait on their hooks, then showed the first time fishermen the basics of casting. They caught on quick and it wasn't long before they were standing knee deep in the cool water, the sun sparkling on its surface, their hooks floating below. It was quiet, just the gentle rush of the river and the sound of songbirds in the trees.

 

Damien took an inhale on his cigarette and blew out a small stream of smoke, idly realizing how much less he was smoking now than when he and Michael first arrived at Trail's End. Less stress meant less cigarettes. Now he enjoyed one just every so often for the pleasure. He was sure his lungs thanked him and he knew Michael was happy that he had cut back as well.

 

Movement to his right caught his attention and Damien saw Brandon shifting a little closer to Damien, stepping carefully on the slick rocks under the water.

 

"Hey Scott, provided we catch something," Brandon smiled, "Do you think Lupita would mind if I helped out in the kitchen? She's an excellent cook. I'd love to get some pointers."

 

"I think she'd love it," Damien answered. "She's been trying to teach me but it's been slow going. She'd love an eager student," he grinned.

 

Brandon nodded, smiling in return. "Do the Cole's live on the ranch, too? And Paula?" he asked.

 

Damien shook his head. "Paula's got her own small ranch about ten miles north of Trail's End. She gives riding lessons. And Isaac and Lupita have a house about halfway between the ranch and town."

 

Brandon nodded again. "What about you? Born and raised in Vermont?"

 

Damien barely paused before falling into the fictitious backstory Stephen had created for him. "No. I'm originally from Denver. Was an adventure guide out there, too. Decided about five years ago I wanted a change of scenery and came out here. Got hired on at Trail's End, and when the owner decided to retire about a year and a half ago, he sold it to Michael and I."

 

Brandon started to say something else but was interrupted by a sudden shout from Jimmy, to their left.

 

"Hey! Hey! I've got one!" he yelled, pulling on his taught line.

 

"Whoa!" Brandon exclaimed at the same time, his pole suddenly jerking in his hands.

 

Damien laughed. "Looks like we won't be going hungry tonight!"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

On the other side of the mountain, Michael sped along on his ATV behind his three guests, trees zipping past him. Vince, Tyson and Amir had gotten the hang of the machines quickly as Michael led them from the ranch up to the dedicated ATV course with plenty of hills, turns and small jumps. Michael discovered the three men were as big adrenaline junkies as he and Damien were, taking the course a little faster each time around, shouting and challenging each other. Even though they were all wearing helmets, gloves and knee and elbow pads, Michael still kept a close eye on them. He didn't need anyone hurt on his watch.

 

Michael completed his circuit and pulled off to the side, shutting down the ATV. He removed his helmet, sweat dripping down his face, his hair standing up in spikes when he ran his hand through it. He hooked his helmet on one of his handlebars and wiped his face on his sleeve before twisting in his seat and opening up the cooler attached behind him. He withdrew an ice cold bottle of water and drank down half of it as he watched Tyson, Amir and Vince tackle the course one more time, smiling at his guests' enthusiasm.

 

The three men came around the last curve, Tyson in the lead, pumping his fist up in victory before coming to a halt next to Michael, the other two men close behind.

 

Tyson whipped off his helmet, a wide grin on his sweaty face. "Take _that!_ " he pointed at his two friends, laughing.

 

Vince shook his head as he also removed his helmet. "I should have known you'd drive as crazy on these things as you do weaving in and out of traffic on the expressway at home."

 

Amir joined in. "Which is why we don't let you drive us anywhere when we go out!"

 

Tyson scoffed. "Chicken shits. All of you." He turned to Michael, still grinning. "It's all about the speed, right, Michael?"

 

Michael laughed. "Can't argue with you there, mate." He looked at all three of them. "Enjoying yourselves, I take it?"

 

"Hell, yeah!" Amir said. He patted the handlebars. "Makes me wish I had somewhere to ride one of these at home."

 

Michael opened the cooler again and tossed each man a bottle. They nodded in thanks and started drinking down the cool water. Michael picked up his bottle again and swung up and off the ATV, giving his body a stretch before walking a short distance away. He came to a stop on a wide, rocky ledge. This lookout vantage point wasn't as high up as the one on the way to Hidden Falls, but it still offered a panoramic view of the valley and Trail's End below.

 

Vince, Amir and Tyson joined him shortly. Vince immediately took out his phone and began snapping pictures. Michael held in a grin, taking another drink from his bottle.

 

"You've got a lot of acreage," Vince commented. "Seems pretty isolated, though. Any other ranches or homes nearby?"

 

"Closest neighbor we have is Paula," Michael answered. "She has a small ranch about ten miles north. Other than that we're by ourselves up here." He smiled. "Scott and I like the solitude."

 

"So Michael, I've got to ask," Tyson spoke up. "With that accent you're definitely not from around here. How did you end up on the top of a mountain in Vermont?"

 

With no hesitation, Michael chuckled and fell smoothly into his well-rehearsed fake background, courtesy of Stephen.

 

"No, I'm originally from London," he began. "The financial firm I worked for transferred me here to set up a new branch. The head office thought it would be a brilliant idea to send us all up here on one of those bloody team-building weekends so we'd all get to know one another."

 

Michael shook his head at the fake memory and the three men laughed.

 

"The team building didn't do bugger all for us, but if we weren't forced to come out here and do it, I'd never have met Scott." He paused, sometimes wishing when he told this story that he truly could have met Damien in this simple, innocent way instead of jumping off a balcony and throwing punches beside him.

 

"We really hit it off and he invited me up here whenever I had some free time," he continued. "I started helping out around the ranch and realized how much I loved it, that I had a knack for all of this." He shrugged, smiling. "I quit my job, got hired on at Trail's End and Scott and I have been together ever since."

 

Vince studied him, cocking his head. "A man you love _and_ a job you love. Sounds like you've got it all."

 

Michael thought of Damien, of his strength, his dedication, his loyalty. He looked down below, at the symbol of the life they had created together. He gave a quiet laugh and a soft smile. "Yeah…I guess I do…"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael, Tyson, Amir and Vince arrived back at Trail's End before Damien, Jimmy and Brandon. The four men took the opportunity to take quick showers to wash off the dirt and grime from the ATV course and change into fresh clothes. Michael had just stepped out the front door of the house when Damien and his group appeared, triumphantly holding up…three fish.

 

"Lupita!" Michael called, as Brandon and Jimmy proudly showed off their catch to Amir, Vince and Tyson.

 

The cheerful, rotund woman appeared from the dining hall, tying her apron around her waist. Michael pointed to the group.

 

"The great, white hunters have apparently not brought back a sufficient bounty for dinner," he cracked. "Please tell me you have a back-up plan."

 

Lupita reached up and patted his cheek. "Silly boy. How long have I been doing this?"

 

Damien walked up then, proudly holding out his catch to Lupita with a grin. "There you go! I know you can work your magic," he winked.

 

Lupita shook her head at the pathetic three fish that were supposed to feed at least seven people. "You're lucky I can make steaks appear out of thin air," she said and Damien barked out a laugh. "Now you two go get those grills going!" she called over her shoulder as she walked back toward the kitchen. "And send that young man in who likes to cook!"

 

Michael laughed. "Yes, ma'am!" He glanced at Damien. "What would we do without her?"

 

"Starve," Damien answered instantly with a smile. He pulled the straps of his waders down off his shoulders. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

 

He took a step to move past Michael but Michael stopped him, reaching out to curl a hand around the back of his neck and draw him in for a kiss. Damien returned it, his mouth opening under Michael's, his hands coming to rest on Michael's hips.

 

Damien looked at him curiously when they eased back a long moment later, a hint of a grin on his face. "What was that for?"

 

Michael shrugged, smiling, thinking of Vince's words. "Just…happy," he said, leaning in to kiss Damien once more, soaking in the warmth in his partner's blue eyes before he turned and headed toward the grills, still smiling.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Lupita did indeed make magic, with Brandon's help, and a little over an hour later a "surf and turf" feast was making its way to the picnic table—grilled, stuffed trout, perfectly cooked steaks, baked potatoes and roasted corn on the cob, along with a fresh salad and a homemade blueberry pie for dessert. Earlier, as Michael was lighting the fire, he insisted that the Cole's join them for dinner, so Aisha and Jasmine were setting out extra place settings as Damien set out bottles of beer alongside the pitchers of ice tea and lemonade.

 

Just as everyone was making their way over to the table, the sound of gravel crunching under tires caught Michael's attention and he looked over to the parking area. There was Paula's purple Jeep pulling to a stop. Michael nodded to himself. Her absence hadn't gone unnoticed by him at lunch, so he was glad to see her joining them for dinner. And apparently so was someone else, as Jimmy perked up and went to meet her halfway, as Sully trotted along beside them. Michael watched them carefully, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Damien doing the same. But Paula seemed relaxed, if still a little reserved, so Michael eased up slightly on his scrutiny as Paula raised a hand in greeting and took a seat at the end of the table across from Jimmy.

 

Everyone dug in eagerly and compliments were paid to both Lupita and Brandon for the delicious food. Conversation flowed easily between everyone, Michael listening as their guests traded stories back and forth regarding their ATV and fishing adventures and told both he and Damien how much they were looking forward to whitewater rafting tomorrow.

 

Plates licked cleaned and glasses and bottles empty, the bright orange sun nearly set, the party broke up into smaller groups as Michael and Damien cleared the table. Brandon and Lupita were sitting in patio chairs, chatting about recipes and cooking techniques while Vince stood texting on his phone again. Tyson, the carpenter, was talking shop with handyman Isaac as the two of them set about building a fire to roast marshmallows and make s'mores. Amir was entertaining Jasmine and Aisha with tales of the celebrities he had interviewed while the three of them took turns tossing a tennis ball to Sully. And Jimmy and Paula were leaning against the paddock fence, talking quietly as fireflies blinked in the night around them.

 

As Michael set a plate of marshmallows and graham crackers on the picnic table, he saw Jimmy hook a thumb over his shoulder and tell Paula he'd be back with a couple of beers and head off toward the dining hall and kitchen. Michael caught Damien's eye as his partner set down a plate of chocolate bars. Without saying anything, he flicked his gaze to Paula, a question in his eyes. Damien looked over and back and nodded his head.

 

Michael nodded back and then walked over to Paula. Both he and Damien needed to know if Jimmy was making her uncomfortable or not. Though she had never outright said, Michael had deduced from the little that Paula had shared about her past that whatever situation she was on the run from, it had also been personal. That she had been hurt and betrayed by someone close to her, which is why she was gun-shy about opening herself up to someone again. While Michael knew there wouldn't be anything long-term between her and Jimmy, he did hope she was welcoming his attention. She deserved to have a bit of fun and take the first step to finding someone again. Maybe Jimmy could be the one to break her out of her shell.

 

"Hey," he smiled.

 

"Hey, boss," she grinned, tucking a lock of long, blonde hair behind her ear. Michael just then realized she had her hair down and wasn't wearing her hat, plus had on a simple, light purple shirt instead of her customary plaid and flannel. It was a nice look on her.

 

Michael tipped his head. "Jimmy…is he bothering you?" He held up a finger. "And be honest with me. I won't have you feeling uncomfortable because you don't want to say anything about one of the guests. I'll speak to him and set some boundaries if that's what you want."

 

Paula shook her head, a hint of blush on her cheeks. "He's not bothering me, honestly." She ducked her head, toeing the dirt with her boot, and there was a soft smile on her face when she looked back up at Michael. "He's nice. He actually wants to know about me, not just talk about himself. I like spending time with him."

 

Michael felt his shoulders relax and he nodded, smiling. "I was hoping you'd say that." He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Have fun," he winked.

 

He turned to go but she caught his arm. Her voice was quiet. "Michael…thank you for caring. You and Scott."

 

His heart warming, he took both her hands in his and squeezed gently. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "That's what families do," he whispered.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Several hours later, Damien walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom in just his dark blue boxer briefs. The room was lit in a soft glow by the small lamp on the bedside table, but the bed itself was empty. Damien saw Michael's chain with the key hanging from the bedpost, then his partner standing in the open doorway leading out onto their back deck, looking outside, wearing just his grey sweatpants.

 

Damien padded across the wooden floor to stand beside Michael, draping an arm around his waist, his partner leaning into him with a tired sigh. They had sent the Cole's and Paula home and done the clean up themselves as their guests bid them goodnight and retired to their cabins after an enjoyable evening spent around the campfire. Now they stood and soaked in the quiet stillness around them, the only sounds the soft chirping of crickets, the sky bright with hundreds of stars.

 

"It was a good day," Damien said quietly.

 

Michael nodded. "Yeah, it was. I think everyone's having a brilliant time. They're a good group of blokes."

 

"I take it your conversation with PC about Jimmy went well. They disappeared into the barn for awhile," Damien smiled.

 

Michael arched an eyebrow with a grin. "Did they now?"

 

"And we all know what goes on in there," Damien winked, his hand drifting down over the swell of Michael's ass, the memory of his partner on his knees in the hay between his legs still fresh in his mind.

 

Michael turned to face him, and by the heated look in his eyes it was still fresh in his, too.

 

"And what would that be?" Michael teased, his voice dropping.

 

Damien stepped closer, feeling the heat of Michael's body as he wound his arm back around his partner's waist, his other hand curling around the nape of his neck, drawing him in.

 

"This…" he breathed.

 

The kiss was slow and deep, their mouths moving together, hands roaming over bare skin, desire building with each passing moment. Damien felt the press of Michael's growing erection against his own and he rocked his hips, sliding their cloth covered cocks against each other. Michael made a noise into the kiss and slipped his hand down inside Damien's briefs to cup his ass. He pulled Damien flush against him as his finger slid further down. Damien broke the kiss with a gasp, his cock giving a sharp throb as Michael's finger pressed against the hidden puckered muscle.

 

He stepped back, arousal flowing through him, feeling his heart beat faster at the thought of Michael inside him. He tugged on Michael's wrist, bringing them back into the privacy of their bedroom. He claimed his partner's mouth again, the kiss more aggressive, which Michael returned eagerly. Damien's hands pulled hastily at Michael's sweatpants as Michael's did the same on Damien's briefs until the offending material was finally removed and kicked away.

 

Michael's blue-green eyes were blown wide as he reached for Damien, wrapping his palm around Damien's erection and jacking it quickly. Damien's head fell back with a groan and he reached for Michael's shoulders as his partner stroked him. But just as swiftly as Michael had started he stopped and Damien raised his head. Before he could say anything, Michael put a hand on his chest and walked Damien backwards until the backs of his shins hit the bed. Michael's eyes flashed, a commanding expression now on his face and Damien swallowed in anticipation. With a small shove, Michael sent Damien toppling back onto the bed and Damien's cock throbbed again. Fuck, he loved it when Michael took control.

 

He pushed himself up toward the headboard as Michael jerked open the drawer on the bedside table and snatched up the bottle of lube. He tossed it on the mattress and climbed up on the bed, crawling up Damien's body, his uncut cock hanging full and heavy between his legs.

 

Damien swallowed again at the blatant arousal emanating like a wave from Michael, entirely focused on him, making his breath stutter. He reached for his partner but Michael caught his wrists, bringing his hands up to the headboard and curling them around the wooden rail, squeezing as a warning to keep them in place. Damien's heart slammed against his chest and a shudder ran through him, his cock releasing a burst of precome. Michael smiled wickedly at Damien's reaction and it served to ratchet up Damien's desire even higher.

 

Michael broke eye contact then as he placed his left hand on the headboard and leaned in, his mouth on Damien's inner right forearm. Damien's eyes fluttered closed as Michael kissed wetly down the tattoo there, his tongue tracing sensuously over the characters as the fingers on his right hand skimmed over the second tattoo on Damien's upper left arm. Damien shivered at the touch, feeling it in his cock. He loved Michael's fascination with his ink, loved that he had awakened an erogenous zone within him he didn't know he had.

 

With a nip to Damien's inner arm that made him pull in a breath, Michael moved back down Damien's body, stopping for a deep, hard kiss that left Damien wanting more. Michael mouth trailed down over his jaw then, his lips soft against Damien's stubble, continuing on down Damien's neck to his chest. He laved his tongue briefly over each of Damien's nipples before sitting up. He fit their groins together, rolling his hips, pushing his cock against Damien's as his fingers found Damien's nipples. Michael rolled the small nubs, pinching and tugging them to hard, sensitive peaks.

 

Damien arched up into the double stimulation with a sharp groan, the sensation shooting straight down to his cock, almost painfully hard now.

 

"Mike…" he pleaded, struggling to keep his hands on the headboard and not on his partner's body.

 

Again, that smug look that told Damien once again Michael was in charge tonight and not him. Which Michael emphasized further by lowering himself down and sucking hard on Damien's over-sensitized nipples until Damien was moving restlessly beneath him, trying to rub his leaking cock against Michael's stomach. But a quick warning nip to one of the nubs had Damien groaning in both arousal and frustration and stilling his movements.

 

He felt Michael chuckle against his skin then he lifted his head and winked at Damien, drawing another frustrated noise from Damien, his head pressing back into the pillow. Only to raise it sharply a moment later when Michael's hot, wet mouth closed around the swollen head of his cock, sucking hard.

 

"Fuck!" he shouted, arching back into the pillow again, his fingers curling hard into the headboard rail, his knuckles turning white as Michael took his entire length into his mouth.

 

Damien's breath came in short pants as Michael sucked him, bobbing his head again and again. Damien's cock released another stream of precome, which Michael swallowed down, his tongue pressing into the slit, trying to draw out more. Damien made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, feeling a throb deep in his balls. He needed Michael inside him _now_.

 

"Mike… _please_ …" he ground out, trying to spread his legs.

 

Damien expected another warning, but instead Michael sucked hard one last time and let Damien's cock slip heavily from his mouth. One look at Michael's face and Damien knew why—he was as nearly far gone as Damien was.

 

Without a word, Michael shifted quickly off of Damien's body, bending Damien's legs at the knee, then spreading his legs wide and moving between them. Damien gripped the headboard even harder as Michael slicked his fingers with the lube and slipped two of them inside him. Damien bit his lip with a groan and immediately pushed down against them, impatient. Michael stretched him quickly but carefully, waiting until he found that spot that made Damien shake before sliding his fingers out.

 

Somehow, through the haze of desire and arousal clouding Damien's brain, a single thought penetrated through the fog as Michael began slicking up his cock.

 

"Wait…wait…" he panted, releasing his grip on the headboard, catching Michael's instant look of concern, thinking something was wrong.

 

Damien twisted to the side, reaching down to the floor, just under his side of the bed, pulling out the item he'd hidden there earlier that day—Paula's extra cowboy hat.

 

Michael's expression relaxed and he arched an eyebrow at Damien, a sly grin crossing his face. He leaned forward and took the hat from Damien, settling it on his head, pulling the brim low, and slowly straightened back up.

 

All rational thought fled from Damien, replaced by a deep, primal lust unlike anything he had ever felt at the sight before him—Michael naked on his knees between his spread legs, his muscular body cast in light and shadow, slowly fisting his slick cock, the swollen, sticky head peeking out of the foreskin…wearing nothing but the hat. A wet dream personified.

 

" _Fuck me_ …"

 

And with a wink, Michael did.

 

He drove into Damien hard and Damien surged up underneath him with a shout, a bucking bronco for Michael to ride.

 

They rocked together, Damien wrapping his legs around his partner's waist, urging him faster, harder, deeper, holding on as Michael snapped his hips, taking everything his partner could give and wanting more.

 

Damien could barely breathe, his head spinning, his arousal at a fever pitch as Michael continued to fuck him, smiling at him the entire time from under the hat. He desperately wanted it to last, but he was too far gone, helpless to stop his climax that stampeded through him. He cried out as his body shuddered, his release so intense it bordered on painful as his cock surged again and again, coating his stomach and chest in long, white streams.

 

He felt his body clench down around Michael's thick, hard length inside him as he came and then it was his partner's turn to shudder. Michael drove in hard one more time, his smile replaced by a look of pure desire, eyes blown wide and dark.

 

" _Damien_ …"

 

Michael's harsh, fucked out voice hit Damien low in his belly and he arched up with a moan as Michael's cock pulsed deep inside him, filling him with his release.

 

Michael captured Damien's mouth, kissing him until Damien was lightheaded, holding one another close until their shaking stopped and they sagged against one another, utterly spent.

 

Damien swallowed hard, his heart rate starting to slow. "Jesus _Christ_ …" he laughed. "That was…"

 

"…fucking amazing," Michael finished with his own laugh. “But I have a question.” He rolled to the side and propped himself up on his elbow, casting his eyes upwards. “We can keep the hat, right?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later the next morning, Brandon and the rest of his friends decided to set out on their own for a hike up the mountain while Michael, Damien and Isaac prepared the gear and equipment for their whitewater rafting trek that afternoon. Lupita packed them sandwiches and bottles of water and Michael gave them a wave as they made their way down the main road, passing Paula's Jeep coming up the drive. The men waved at her and she returned it, Michael noticing that Jimmy turned his head to watch her and he grinned.

 

Paula drove past Michael and backed up the Jeep close to the barn doors. Michael glanced over to Damien and Isaac, noting that they had everything under control hitching the trailer that would ferry the raft back to the ranch to the rear of the Land Rover, so he made his way over to Paula.

 

"Hey, boss!" she greeted him, smiling enigmatically.

 

She opened the rear door of the Jeep and started pulling out one of several large bags of feed. Michael stepped up and grabbed another.

 

"Hey, yourself," he said, hoisting the bag over his shoulder, looking at her with his own grin.

 

Paula hoisted her own bag on her shoulder and they walked side by side into the barn.

 

"So…" Michael caught her gaze and then let his eyes sweep over the interior. "Enjoy yourself last night?" he teased.

 

Paula set her bag down outside the tack room and Michael did the same. She cocked her head at him, her eyes twinkling. "Indeed I did." She paused, a hint of a smirk teasing the corners of her mouth. "And you?"

 

Michael coughed, feeling his face heat up. Turnabout was fair play and he'd walked right into it. He busied himself needlessly straightening his bag, averting his gaze. "Yeah. It was good. Brilliant," he rambled.

 

Michael heard her chuckle as she turned to walk back to the Jeep. "Oh, boss?" She looked over her shoulder as Michael started to follow. "You can keep the hat," she winked.

 

Michael tripped over his own feet.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time their guests returned from their hike, sometime after 2:00 p.m., Michael and Damien had all of the whitewater rafting gear laid out for them. They took time with each man, getting them into appropriately fitting wetsuits, water shoes, life jackets and helmets, before suiting up themselves.

 

"Okay," Michael addressed the group, Damien standing beside him. "We're going to carry the raft and paddles a short way down river and put in there. When we're through, Isaac will be waiting for us and we'll load the raft on the trailer and ride back in the Land Rover."

 

"Since you're all new to this, we're going to start you off in the calm section where we put in and go over all of the basic commands," Damien continued, then grinned. "And then you'll be ready to hit the rapids."

 

There were nods and smiles all around and Tyson spoke up. "Will we be hitting class fives?" he asked eagerly.

 

Michael laughed. "No, sorry, mate. You lot aren't ready for that yet." He saw the disappointed looks and hastened to reassure them. "We'll be going through class three and four rapids, but since the river's running so high, it'll feel closer to fours and fives."

 

"Trust us," Damien said. "It's going to be a wild ride."

 

The men smiled again and Michael clapped his hands. "Let's do this, eh?"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It wasn't long before the group arrived with the raft at the designated put in spot. The afternoon was warm and the water clear and cool. Michael and Damien held the raft steady in the knee-deep water at the shore as their guests eagerly climbed aboard, grabbing their paddles, before they, too, climbed in. Damien sat up front with Amir beside him. Tyson and Vince were in the next row, then Brandon and Jimmy and Michael sat alone in the rear, commanding the raft.

 

As he had told the men, while they were in the calm area of the river here, he ran them through all of the commands they would need to know if they were going to safely navigate the rapids—forward, back, left back, right back, stop. And then the most important two—lean in and high side. "Lean in" was used to prepare the rafters when a jolting hit was imminent, such as when they were about to hit a wave head on or going over a steep drop, to lean down and toward the center of the raft. "High side" was used to keep the raft from flipping over if it struck an obstacle, all rafters throwing their body weight toward that side.

 

Michael ran them through the commands twice, all of them responding quickly and appropriately. They were ready.

 

"Well done, gentlemen!" he complimented them. "Now let's go tackle those rapids!"

 

There were cheers all around, paddles held high for a moment before Michael gave the command.

 

"Forward!"

 

Seven paddles dug into the mountain water and the raft surged ahead.

 

The first set of rapids was the easiest, getting everyone used to the motion of the raft, but they still took on a wave over the side, dousing everyone. There was laughter all around that quickly died out when the raft suddenly picked up speed.

 

"Forward!" Michael called out again as they headed into Rollercoaster, the nickname for this stretch of rapids that mimicked the hills of the amusement park ride.

 

The raft bounced up and down, all seven men leaving their seats repeatedly as water crashed over the side.

 

"Left back! Left back!" Michael commanded and the men responded, straightening out the raft from its sideways trajectory and safely navigating the rapids.

 

"Well done!" Michael praised them. "Paddles!"

 

The seven met lifted their paddles overhead and hit them together in celebration, cheering each other. The celebration was short-lived, however as the river plunged them swiftly toward Canyon Falls.

 

With the river running so high, the falls were crashing, and it was going to be a hard hit at the bottom.

 

"Stop! Lean in!" Michael shouted.

 

Everyone obeyed automatically, bringing their paddles out of the water and leaning in toward the center of the raft. Michael experienced a feeling of weightlessness as the raft tipped over the falls before the front end of the raft slammed back down into the water. Everyone was jolted as a massive wave came over the front and Michael lost sight of Damien and Amir at the same time Vince nearly tipped sideways out of the raft. But Brandon's quick reaction had him grabbing the back of Vince's life jacket, keeping his friend inside the raft. With another jolt, the front of the raft popped back above the surface and there were Damien and Amir, looking like drowned rats, but none the worse for wear. Damien was laughing and smacking Amir on his back and Amir was grinning, wiping water out of his eyes.

 

The raging river offered no reprieve, sending the raft sailing toward Table Rock, which resembled a table tipped partway on its side. And with the water pushing them in that direction, Michael knew they were going to hit it, but he would try and lessen the impact as much as he could.

 

"Right back! Right back!"

 

The men did their best against the pressure of the water, to get the raft turned, but they hit Table Rock sideways, the right side of the raft sliding up the rock.

 

"High side! High side!" Michael yelled and everyone scrambled to the right, balancing out the weight.

 

The maneuver worked and the raft slid back down, everyone still safely inside. Tyson and Brandon whooped and high-fived each other.

 

"Forward!" Michael called out and seven paddles dug back into the water, heading for a bend in the river and their final set of rapids.

 

As soon as they rounded the bend, the current even stronger there, Damien suddenly jerked his head back toward Michael.

 

"Mike!" he yelled, and Michael instantly understood the warning in his voice.

 

Looming ahead of them was a massive grey-black rock formation nicknamed Godzilla. With the river running as high and fast as it was today, there was a whirlpool forming in front of it. And they were heading directly for it.

 

"Shit," Michael cursed under his breath, thinking quickly.

 

The river was too narrow for the raft to fit through on the opposite side of Godzilla, so they had no choice but to thread the needle between the rock formation and the whirlpool.

 

"Scott! Slingshot!" Michael yelled, telling his partner they were going to use the centrifugal force at the edge of the whirlpool to their advantage, letting it slingshot them around and into the calmer part of the river.

 

"Copy that!" Damien called back.

 

"Everyone hang on!" Michael shouted as he and Damien dug their paddles in, aiming the raft for the outer edge of the whirlpool.

 

But the river had other ideas, a wave catching the back of the raft and twisting it as the front end hit the whirlpool. The raft spun, impacting the base of Godzilla, the left side going nearly vertical up against the massive rock.

 

Without Michael even having to shout a command, the men scrambled for the high side, trying to keep the raft from tipping completely over. But to Michael's horror, Jimmy slipped on the wet rubber surface and was thrown from the raft.

 

"Scott!" Michael shouted over the roaring of the water, signaling his partner of his intentions before he launched himself into the river.

 

The water was freezing cold and Michael gasped, coughing as he took in a mouthful, fighting against the current as he twisted his head, looking for Jimmy. He spied the younger man bobbing in the water, caught in the outer edge of the whirlpool and he set off after him with powerful strokes, letting the centrifugal force aid him.

 

The current pushed him into Jimmy hard and he grabbed for the other man's life jacket as Jimmy reached out in a panic for him as well. In his haste, Jimmy pushed down on Michael's shoulders, trying to keep his head above water, in the process pushing Michael under, his flailing legs catching Michael in the stomach.

 

Michael grunted and shoved himself to the surface, choking on river water. He reached blindly for Jimmy again, his fingers finally curling around the strap on the other man's life jacket as they were tossed to the side by the raging water, Michael's shoulder slamming against a large rock while his knee solidly impacted another.

 

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Michael turned his head sharply, searching for the raft, hoping it was still upright.

 

"MIKE!"

 

Damien's voice cut through the noise around him and Michael turned the other way, seeing the raft heading straight for he and Jimmy. Too fast.

 

"Scott!" Michael yelled as Damien thrust the handle of his paddle toward them both.

 

Michael timed it perfectly, swinging Jimmy around and the other man grabbed on as Brandon and Amir leaned over to take hold of his life jacket and legs and haul him into the raft.

 

Damien attempted the same maneuver again with Michael but the raft was moving too fast, bucking in the water. Before Michael could attempt to get out of its way, the raft smashed into him, hitting him in the face and upper chest, pushing him back and crushing him between it and the base of Godzilla. Michael's head snapped back, striking hard against the unforgiving rock, banging against his helmet. Stunned from the impact and the crushing weight against his chest, Michael's vision wavered. He reached out, trying for the safety line running along the top of the raft but missed as the raft suddenly moved away from him. The weight against him released, and he felt himself sliding under the water when suddenly Damien's strong hands were on his shoulders, under his life jacket, lifting him up.

 

"I've got you!"

 

Then more hands were there on his waist and legs, heaving him up and over the side of the raft, where he landed in a heap on the bottom. Michael turned his head and coughed up river water, then Damien's hand was on the side of his face, tipping his chin up. Blinking through the moisture on his face, realizing some of it was blood, Michael could see the worry in his partner's clear blue eyes, his voice high and tight.

 

"Mike. Are you with me?"

 

Michael nodded, gripping Damien's wrist and squeezing. Damien blew out a breath in relief and patted the side of Michael's face before straightening back up and turning to the rest of the men in the raft.

 

"Forward!" he yelled and they instantly grabbed for their paddles, all except for Jimmy, who had lost his and currently sat in the bottom of the raft like Michael. Michael caught his gaze and nodded at him. Jimmy nodded back, an appreciative but slightly dazed look on his face.

 

Less than a minute later Michael felt the abrupt change in the water beneath them and the sounds around them, both growing calmer—they had finally navigated past both Godzilla and the whirlpool and were now in the slow part of the river, not far from their pick-up point.

 

"Stop!" Damien gave the command and pulled his paddle up out of the water, turning back to the group as they, too, stopped paddling, a stunned silence falling over them, everyone breathing hard.

 

Damien's eyes flicked down to Michael before a cocky grin spread across his face as he looked back to the rest of the men.

 

"Fuck, yeah!" Damien hooted. "Now that's what I call shooting the rapids!"

 

Michael knew his partner well enough to pick up on the forced levity in his voice, but doubted any of the other men could. And he understood why Damien was making light of the dangerous situation they had just been in, instead turning it into a challenge that their guests had overcome successfully and should be proud of. And it worked, smiles spreading across everyone's faces, even Jimmy's.

 

"Whoo-yeah!" Tyson shouted, pumping his fist up in the air as everyone broke into laughter, slapping each other on the back and tapping Jimmy on the top of his helmet.

 

Michael looked up at Damien and gave him a small nod for a job well done of diffusing the tension, then hands were clapping him on the shoulder as well and Michael smiled back through the blood in his eyes.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael was quiet on the ride back to the ranch in the Land Rover, Damien shooting him a concerned gaze more than once. He had an intense, sharp headache, his temple throbbed from the cut on his brow, and his chest and face were sore, along with his shoulder and knee. He ached from head to toe. But thankfully his silence went unnoticed as his guests were still on an adrenaline high from their adventure and talked non-stop the entire return trip.

 

The five men piled out of the Land Rover when they arrived at the ranch, stripping off their gear and wetsuits, still talking, as Michael, Damien and Isaac began unhitching the trailer. Vince walked back over to them a minute later.

 

"Scott? Michael? Would it be okay if we headed into town tonight for dinner, hit up a few bars?" the red-head asked.

 

Michael was actually glad for the request, that their guests still had energy to burn, because he wasn't feeling up to entertaining anyone this evening.

 

"Of course," Michael replied. "This is your vacation. Go on. Have fun," he smiled.

 

Damien stepped forward. "If you guys are drinking and need a ride back, call us. Doesn't matter what time."

 

Vince nodded. "Thanks, guys, appreciate it. And thanks for one hell of a ride today!" he laughed as he took a step backwards. He held up a hand. "See you in the morning!"

 

Michael gave an exhausted exhale as the five men headed for their cabins to get changed before heading out to town. He turned back to the trailer, grimacing as his shoulder protested the action. Damien put a hand on his lower back.

 

"Isaac and I have got this, Mike. Go on up to the house, get cleaned up, relax." He grinned. "You've had a rough day, buddy."

 

Michael gave a tired grin in return. "Yeah. Okay."

 

Damien nodded and rubbed his hand on Michael's back before Michael stepped away. He dropped his life jacket and helmet next to the rest of the gear and stripped off his wetsuit before making his way up to the house in his swim trunks. Movement to his left caught his eye and he saw Jasmine coming out of the barn, most likely sneaking apples and carrots to the horses. He waved her over.

 

"Hey, Michael," she said brightly as she approached, then her expression turned concerned when she got a good look at him. She reached out a hand toward the cut on his brow and the dried blood on his face. "Oh my gosh, are you okay? What happened?"

 

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he reassured her. "Took a bit of a spill in the river, that's all. Listen, can you tell your mum that our guests have decided to have dinner in town? Scott and I will fix something for ourselves and eat in the house."

 

"Yeah, sure," she answered, but there was still concern in her brown eyes. "I can drive you to the clinic, get that looked at."

 

He shook his head and smiled warmly at her. "Nothing a bandage and some ice won't fix." He tipped his head to the side. "Go on, we'll see you in the morning for breakfast."

 

She shook her head, frowning at him. "Men. Always gotta be so tough."

 

Michael couldn't help but laugh as she walked away. He loved this adopted family of his.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien was just walking into the bathroom as Michael finished up his shower, and the two men traded places, Michael wrapping a towel around his waist.

 

"I told Jasmine to let Lupita know we wouldn't need dinner tonight," Michael told his partner as he opened the medicine cabinet on the wall.

 

"I'll see what we've got in the fridge," Damien answered as he washed off the river water.

 

Michael studied his reflection in the mirror. He looked a little worse for wear, but at least the cut above his eye had stopped bleeding. He removed a small butterfly bandage from the medicine cabinet and applied it, just to be on the safe side. His fingers probed gently over his face. He wouldn't be surprised if he had a few bruises in the morning from the raft hitting him there. He carefully rotated his shoulder and grimaced. That was going to be sore for a day or so. He ran his hands over his chest and back, both of which were tender, but his life jacket had done a good job of absorbing the repeated impacts from the rocks and the raft. He did, however, still have a pounding headache.

 

He had just pulled out the bottle of aspirin and set it on the counter when cloud of steam wafted up behind him as Damien shut off the water and opened the glass shower door. He stepped up beside Michael and gently ran his fingers through Michael's damp hair.

 

"Still in one piece?" he asked lightly, but Michael saw a hint of concern lingering in his eyes.

 

"Fit for duty, Sergeant," Michael smiled softly.

 

Damien brushed a thumb carefully next to the butterfly bandage and looked him up and down. "Hmm…yeah, we'll see about that." He leaned in for a kiss. "Go get dressed and sit down for a while. I'll fix us up something for dinner."

 

Michael shook his head. "I can—" he started but Damien gently took hold of his wrist, cutting him off.

 

"Let me take care of you," Damien said softly, handing him the bottle of aspirin.

 

Warmth spread throughout Michael's chest as he took the bottle, and his partner's offer, nodding slowly. "Copy that."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael had no more than settled himself at the kitchen table and Damien had started rifling through the meager contents of their refrigerator when there was a knock at the door. Through the screen Michael could see Jasmine and Aisha standing on the porch and he waved them inside.

 

They walked in, each holding a tin-foil covered plate and Aisha also had a small basket over one arm. They set everything down on the table and removed the tin-foil from the plates to reveal a chicken teriyaki stir-fry that smelled amazing.

 

"Mama whipped this up for you," Aisha said, then smirked at Damien. "She apparently doesn't trust Scott's cooking abilities yet."

 

"Hey!" Damien said, throwing up his arms, holding a bottle of ketchup.

 

Michael chuckled at his partner's mock outrage. "Cheers for this, girls. Tell your mum she's a dear and thank her for not letting me starve tonight."

 

"Hey!" Damien repeated and both girls laughed as they turned to go.

 

"Oh, there's brownies in the basket," Jasmine said over her shoulder as the screen door closed behind her and her sister.

 

"I had everything under control," Damien insisted.

 

Michael arched an eyebrow. "Oh?" He pointed to the ketchup. "And what exactly were you going to do with that?"

 

Damien looked at the bottle then back at Michael. "I have no fucking idea," he laughed, then hungrily eyed the plates on the table. "Now where are the forks…?"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It wasn't long before their bellies were full and their plates empty, not to mention the basket of brownies. Michael had hoped that getting some food in him would make him feel better, but his headache was still a dull throb. He rubbed his temple several times before pushing back his chair and standing. His body had stiffened up while he sat and his knee gave a twinge when he went to turn from the table. He winced and then gave a sigh. He had sustained injuries far worse than this during his military career and kept going like they were nothing more than a scratch. This was more evidence he was getting soft in his civilian life.

 

Damien stood as well and plucked the plate from Michael's hands. "I'll take care of the dishes." He frowned slightly. "Still hurting?"

 

"Hmmm…" Michael said. "Every bloody part of me aches."

 

"Well that's what happens when you play pinball with your body down the river," Damien smirked.

 

Michael gave him the finger. "Wanker," he scowled and turned to leave the kitchen.

 

Damien snagged his elbow. "I’m sorry. Here, sit back down and give me a minute. I know something that should help."

 

Dubious, Michael sat anyway, absently rubbing his knee as Damien first turned on the kettle, then set about taking care of their dinner dishes. He'd just finished when the kettle whistled. He retrieved Michael's mug and plucked a tea bag from one of the boxes and dropped it in the mug, followed by steaming water. He dunked the tea bag a few times before bringing it over and handing it to Michael. The aroma of soothing chamomile wafted up.

 

Damien dropped a kiss on the top of Michael's head. "Drink. Relax. I'll be back in a bit," he said, then left the kitchen.

 

A few minutes later Michael heard water running in the bathroom and then the door close. He smiled when he realized what his partner was doing, and sat back to enjoy his tea and wait the ten minutes or so.

 

Nearly right on cue, he heard a slightly louder noise come from the bathroom and then Damien was standing in front of him again, holding out his hand. Michael took it and let his partner help him to his feet, then followed along behind him to the bathroom door.

 

Damien opened it and Michael was enveloped in warm, moist steam as he walked inside, his eyes adjusting to the low light. Damien closed the door behind them both, keeping in the warm temperature, and moved to stand in front of the tub, which was currently bubbling away.

 

The one thing he and Damien had done when they moved into the main house was renovate the bathroom. They installed a double sink, a glass-walled shower big enough for two and a large, jetted soaker tub, also big enough for them both, plus recessed lighting with a dimmer switch, for times just like this.

 

Damien undressed himself first, then slowly removed Michael's white tank top, navy blue shorts and matching boxer briefs before getting into the tub first. Damien settled himself against the back of the tub, his legs spread under the water. He held out his hand in invitation and Michael was quick to join him.

 

He sighed gratefully as he sank into the hot water and leaned back against his partner, his head resting against Damien's chest, the bubbling water lapping at his neck. He closed his eyes and let the water jets massage his sore muscles.

 

"Feel good?" Damien asked quietly.

 

"Mmm-hmm…" Michael murmured.

 

"How's this?" Damien asked, and Michael felt his partner's fingers on both of his temples, rubbing soothing circles to relieve his headache.

 

Michael sighed into the touch, the pressure in his head releasing as the rest of his body began to completely relax. He melted back into Damien, his hands resting on his partner's thighs as the hot water and steam worked their magic, along with the dim light and the chamomile tea, and before he knew it, he had drifted off.

 

He woke sometime later to the sound of the jets turning off and the feel of Damien's hand running slowly up and down his chest. He blinked and took a slow breath, feeling Damien smile against his hair.

 

"Hey," his partner said softly.

 

"Hey," Michael whispered back. He sat up slightly and turned to look up at Damien, lifting his head.

 

Damien met him in the middle for a slow kiss, his hand still ghosting over Michael's chest. Michael let himself drift as their mouths moved together lazily, wrapped in the warmth of the water. Damien's thumb brushed over one of Michael's nipples and a tiny jolt of pleasure rolled through him. He pulled in a short breath and Damien did it again, rubbing more firmly against the small nub. Michael hummed into the kiss and when Damien's hand swept downward, he encouraged it further, past his waist and between his legs. He pushed back into Damien as his partner's hand cupped his cock and heavy balls, caressing them both. Michael deepened the kiss, and it was Damien's turn to make a quiet noise as their tongues danced sensuously together.

 

Michael's body felt both heavy and weightless in the water as Damien stroked him, slowly bringing him to full hardness, his other hand continuing to move across Michael's chest, teasing his nipples.

 

Their mouths parted and came back together again and again, the kiss, the heat of the water and the steam enveloping him making Michael pleasantly lightheaded. So caught up in the increasing sensations Damien was creating inside his body, his release took him by surprise, rolling through him in one long wave.

 

He broke the kiss with a quiet gasp, arching back against Damien as his cock pulsed, spilling himself into the water, the feeling exquisite. Damien held him close as he came, and Michael could feel his partner's hardness against his back. As the long tremors subsided, Michael attempted to turn and bring Damien to completion as well, but his partner held him in place.

 

Damien shook his head. "This is about you tonight…" he whispered.

 

Michael smiled softly at him. "Thank you."

 

Damien blew out a breath and wrapped both arms around Michael, his blue eyes serious. "You scared the shit out of me today, Michael. Been a long time since I had to worry about you getting hurt."

 

Michael curled his hands around Damien's forearms, touched by his partner's concern. "I think throwing ourselves into danger will always be part of our nature. You can take the man out of the military…" he trailed off.

 

Damien huffed out a quiet breath in grudging acknowledgement and kissed Michael on his temple. "How're you feeling?"

 

Michael stretched carefully, moving his shoulder and bending his knee, neither of which protested the movement. He realized his headache was gone as well.

 

He nodded, a grin teasing the corner of his mouth. "I'd say your medical treatment was a complete success, Doctor Scott."

 

Damien arched an eyebrow and ran his hands over Michael's body. "Hmm…I don't know. I think I need to get you on the bed and perform a _thorough_ examination. Just to be sure, of course," he smirked.

 

Michael chuckled. "Well far be it from me to ignore my doctor's advice…"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien had no idea what time his guests had rolled in last night, but they'd all been looking a little rough around the edges this morning. Lupita's hearty breakfast of biscuits and gravy along with strong black coffee was nothing if not a hangover cure, though. They'd all bounced back fairly quickly after their stomachs were full and were now helping out packing the ATVs with camping gear and rock climbing equipment. Well, all except for Jimmy, who was apparently taking a break to chat with Paula as she fed the horses.

 

Damien's amused gaze slid from the barn door to his partner, glad to see that he, too, had bounced back, moving around without difficulty today. Bruising now mottled his skin around the cut above his brow and on his kneecap, but Michael assured him it looked worse than it felt.

 

He'd meant what he said last night to his partner—that seeing Michael being battered by the raft and the raging water had scared the shit out of him. He could have easily broken his neck or back instead of escaping with only cuts and bruises. Damien thought they'd left the possibility of death behind them with Section 20. But the rafting incident drove home how complacent he'd become in their civilian life, thinking they would always be safe.

 

The thought of losing Michael now, after how hard they fought to get to where they were…

 

Damien swallowed thickly, forcing the thought from his mind as Amir approached, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. He pointed his thumb back behind him.

 

"We're all set, Scott."

 

Damien nodded. "Let's get the show on the road, then! Gotta give you boys one more adventure before you head home tomorrow."

 

Amir cocked his head, smiling. "Only the best for last."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The group set out on their ATVs to the spot Damien and Michael always took their guests for rock climbing and overnight camping, at the base of Jameson's Point. They knew the area well and had climbed up and down the cliff face so many times they could practically do it blindfolded. And it was another perfect summer afternoon for it, too—bright sunshine, a slight breeze and a few fluffy white clouds drifting overhead.

 

First order of business was getting their camp set up, and everyone pitched in. Since Damien and Michael used this spot so often, there was already a designated fire pit area. The seven men pitched their tents in a circle around it, Damien and Michael sharing one while everyone else had their own. Then there was an extra one for storing their food, cooking equipment and rock climbing gear.

 

Camp in order, everyone set about getting ready for their climb. Damien and Michael handed out helmets, harnesses and rock shoes to their guests, everyone dressed similarly in tank tops and shorts.

 

"Now _this_ we know how to do," Brandon said with a grin.

 

"We all climb indoor rock walls on a regular basis," Tyson explained.

 

"And we've been itching to do it for real," Jimmy continued.

 

Damien looked at Michael and nodded. If they were as experienced as they said they were, they could get in a lot more climbing today without the two of them taking it slow for first-time climbers.

 

"Well all right then, let me see you get suited up," Damien told the five men.

 

He and Michael kept a watchful eye as their guests got into their harnesses with no hesitation, making sure it was secured properly around each of them. They were done quickly and neither he or Michael needed to make any adjustments. They were off to a good start.

 

Damien gave them all a thumbs-up and he and Michael got into their gear as well before gathering up ropes, carabiners, cams, nuts and chalk bags. The equipment was equally distributed among the seven men and they all walked the short distance to the bottom of the cliff face.

 

Damien turned to face his guests. "The first section here we use for beginners. I know you all said you have experience, but Michael and I need to see that for ourselves. Show us you're proficient climbers and we'll tackle the entire face to the top. Sound good?"

 

"Yeah, let's go!" Amir said eagerly.

 

Damien went first, checking to make sure all of the cams and nuts he and Michael leave in place were still secure from the last time they'd made this climb. They were, and he scaled the small section easily, tied off, then waited on the large, flat rock ledge for the next man.

 

One by one, Vince, Brandon, Jimmy, Amir and Tyson climbed up. There was a bit of hesitation on all their parts at first, which was understandable since this was the first time they had real rock under their hands and feet instead of a synthetic material at the gym. But once they got the feel of things, all of them made it up to the rock ledge with no issues. They gave one another high-fives and Damien nodded to himself. They were ready to take on the entire cliff.

 

Michael remained at the bottom, keeping a close eye on their guest's rappelling skills until they were all safely back on the ground. Damien was last and Michael gave him a thumbs-up as he unhooked himself.

 

"Well done, everyone," Michael said. "Ready for a bit more of a challenge?" he grinned.

 

"Oh hell, yeah!" Tyson laughed.

 

The ropes were gathered up and everyone moved over to the main section of the cliff. Michael would go first this time, inspecting the route, checking the cams and nuts here as well. Damien watched as his partner double-checked his harness and the extra equipment hanging from it in case anything needed to be replaced, then secured the rope to himself. He put his hands and one foot on the cliff, then called over his shoulder.

 

"Climbing!"

 

"Climb on!" Damien called back.

 

As Damien watched Michael ascend, a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. Even though his partner was moving smoothly and effortlessly up the cliff like he had done dozens of times before, Michael's close call yesterday had Damien on edge. One slip, one loose rock…

 

"He looks like a mountain goat," Vince joked, pulling Damien from his worrisome thoughts. Once again, Vince had his phone out and was taking pictures of the cliff.

 

Damien didn't answer, intently watching Michael's progress, his partner's powerful, muscular arms and legs taking him higher and higher. It wasn't until he had safely reached the top that Damien released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

 

Michael disappeared from Damien's view and Damien knew he was tying off at the top. A moment later Michael reappeared, looking down. The walkie-talkie clipped to the waistband of Damien's cargo shorts crackled.

 

" _All good up here_ ," came Michael's voice. " _All the cams and nuts were secure. Start sending them up_."

 

"Copy that," Damien acknowledged, then turned to the group. "Who's first?"

 

Five hands shot up.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

A good twenty-five minutes later, Damien, last in line, finally began the ascent himself. He had selected Tyson to go first, followed by Amir, Brandon, Vince and Jimmy. They took to the challenging cliff face quickly, eager to put their skills to the test. And Damien was impressed. It was clear they truly knew what they were doing. Which left Damien to relax and enjoy the climb.

 

He cleared his mind, as he often did when he was out here, concentrating only on his environment—the feel of the rock under his palms, the warmth of the sun on his back, the cool breeze against his skin, the smell of the earth all around him.

 

He paused halfway up, turning to look over his shoulder at the beautiful vista laid out before him, a feeling of peace settling over him. Which had not been easy for him for a long while. Relocating back to the States did not sit well with him at first. Going back to a country that had betrayed and willingly conspired against him, branding him an unfit soldier, thus destroying his life for the next seven years until Section 20 came along left him angry and resentful. But the States offered him the chance to have a stable life with Michael, and that was incentive enough for him to come to terms with his anger and let it go, focusing on the future instead of his past. And now…he wouldn't change any of this for the world.

 

_"Scott? Everything okay, mate?"_

 

Damien looked down at the sound of Michael's voice coming from his walkie-talkie. His partner must have noticed he'd stopped climbing. Damien clipped himself in and plucked the walkie-talkie from his waistband. He looked up as he pressed the button, seeing Michael peering down at him.

 

"Yeah, buddy. It's all good," he smiled.

 

And it really was.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Hours later, Damien stood with six other equally sweaty men in the small stream that ran near their campsite. They had tackled the cliff face several times before calling it a day. Damien could feel the burn in his thighs and biceps as he squatted down to scoop up a double handful of water, which he splashed onto his face. He ran wet fingers through his hair and then scrubbed his hands over his face, wiping away the dirt, grime and sweat. Another double handful of water splashed against his bare chest, the water refreshingly cool against his overheated skin.

 

He straightened up with a small groan, putting his hands on his lower back and arching against them. As he stretched he took in the view of his partner also cleaning himself off—water streaming down his smooth, bare chest, over the chain and key, his hands skimming over his skin, eyes closed, head tipped back. Damien felt a throb in his groin at the sight and wished they were going to be in the privacy of their own bedroom tonight instead of in a tent.

 

As if Michael felt Damien's gaze on him, he opened his blue-green eyes and looked Damien's way. Damien let his eyes rove blatantly over Michael's body then gave him a smirk and a wink. Michael rolled his eyes and shook his head. Damien chuckled and walked back through the stream as everyone finished up their quick wash as well. They all grabbed up their discarded shirts and started the short walk back to their camp in the fading afternoon light.

 

"So," Michael said to the group, grinning. "Better than the rock wall at the gym?"

 

The five men laughed and Brandon spoke up. "I don't know if I can ever go back there again after this!"

 

"You just can't beat the real thing," Damien agreed. "But it's good you had the practice before you came out here. You guys were great up there."

 

"Thanks, Scott," Jimmy said appreciatively.

 

Damien turned to Amir. "So, was it the best for last?"

 

"Day's not over yet. I'll get back to you," Amir grinned.

 

Damien nodded, but wondered what else Amir thought was going to happen tonight to top the cliff climb.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Hours later, Damien relaxed back against the log, taking one last drag on his cigarette. He tipped his head back and blew the stream of smoke up into the night sky. Far away from any light pollution, thousands of stars shimmered above him. He thought to himself that he Michael should really learn something about astronomy, buy a telescope. Star gazing could be something else they offered their guests while out on these camping trips.

 

Damien looked back down, flicking his cigarette butt into what remained of the campfire, just a few small flames now, crackling softly, mixing with the cheerful sound of crickets chirping around he and Michael. Besides the sounds of nature, it was quiet. Their guests had turned in a short while ago after a delicious dinner of chili and cornbread that Lupita had sent along with them, followed by easy conversation and a bottle of whiskey that Damien had brought. For a bunch of greenhorn city-slickers, the five Chicagoans had been one of the best groups that had been to the ranch, and Damien was glad that he and Michael had been able to give them a taste of the great outdoors.

 

Looking around him, Damien was once again grateful that he'd ended up out here, that Stephen hadn't set he and Michael up with suit-and-tie office jobs. On the other hand… His gaze slid to his partner, relaxing beside him, swallowing down the last of the whiskey in his plastic cup. He bet Michael would fill out a suit and tie very nicely. Lord knows he'd been sexy as fuck in that tuxedo. And peeling Michael _out_ of that suit and tie would be equally sexy as fuck. Well…maybe he'd let him keep the tie on…

 

The enticing vision in his mind, Damien draped an arm around Michael's shoulders and drew him close.

 

"When's our next day off?" he smirked, voice low.

 

Michael arched an eyebrow and Damien nearly laughed at the expression on his partner's face before he leaned forward and captured Michael's mouth. Damien tasted the whiskey on Michael's tongue and he hummed into the kiss, enjoying the flavor. Michael slid an arm around Damien's waist, his fingers just up under the hem of his shirt. Damien hummed again at Michael's touch against his bare skin and his cock began to stir. He deepened the kiss slightly, his own hand drifting up Michael's leg until his palm pressed against his partner's own cock.

 

Michael broke the kiss then, his eyes darting to the tents around them. "Oi!" he whispered, pushing against Damien's chest. "Down, Casanova."

 

Damien sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "You are just no fun, Michael."

 

"Guess I won't be needing to wear that cowboy hat again then, eh?" Michael slapped Damien's leg as he stood and started walking toward their tent.

 

Damien scrambled to his feet. "No! Wait! I take it back!" he laughed.

 

"Get the fire, cowboy," Michael called over his shoulder with a wink and disappeared inside the tent.

 

 

A short time later, the fire extinguished, Damien was in the tent, stretched out on top of his sleeping bag, stripped down to his boxer briefs in the warm summer night. Michael was laying next to him, similarly dressed, his upper body draped over Damien's as they kissed languidly. Damien ran his hands softly up and down Michael's bare back, over the strong muscles that rippled under his touch as their mouths moved together for long minutes.

 

They let the kiss gradually end, and Michael dipped his head to kiss down the side of Damien's neck and across the top of his chest before shifting and sitting up slightly. Damien absently played with the key around Michael's neck as they smiled gently at one another.

 

It wasn't long before the combination of the physical exertion of the day, a full stomach and several glasses of whiskey had Damien's body growing heavy, on the verge of sleep. His eyes had just drifted closed when Michael spoke.

 

"Hey," he said quietly, rubbing a thumb on Damien's cheek.

 

"Hmm?" Damien sighed and opened his eyes.

 

"What you said earlier about our next day off. I'd like to block off a week or two at the end of the summer, close the ranch and take a proper holiday with Finn. Someplace special. Paris, Barcelona? I'd like to spend some time with him before he's caught up in university." Michael paused. "What do you think?"

 

Damien felt his chest tighten with emotion at Michael's words, further proof that his partner truly cared for his son and wanted Finn in his life. Wanted a family.

 

Damien swallowed thickly and pulled Michael back to him, holding him close, his voice a rough whisper.

 

"I think I love you even more."

 

He felt Michael smile against his skin, and Damien fell asleep dreaming of his family standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later, Damien would blame what happened next on his combat instincts having dulled, that both he and Michael had gone soft in their civilian life, which is why they were caught completely off-guard when the ambush happened.

 

One minute Damien was deeply asleep and the next he was thrown into an explosion of violence around him as the tent was ripped open on all sides and four men charged inside. His heart slammed against his chest as hands pulled him forcefully away from Michael, adrenaline instantly surging through his body like lightning. He heard Michael's shout in the near-pitch darkness, their foes nothing more than indistinct forms swarming around them. Damien lashed out, still on the ground, his fist striking one man in the face, his foot connecting solidly with another. He felt Michael fighting equally strenuously next to him, their bodies rolling into one another. Damien attempted to get to his feet in the confined space but a powerful punch to his stomach and another to his jaw had him gasping for breath and falling back, two of the men finally overpowering him. One got him in a chokehold while the other held down his lower body.

 

His eyes finally adjusting to the low light, the last thing Damien saw before he felt a sharp prick on his neck that plunged him into unconsciousness was Jimmy looming over him, his face twisted into a sinister smile.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Consciousness returned to Michael with a sharp slap across his face.

 

"Wakey-wakey, Michael."

 

He jerked, pulling in a harsh breath, his eyes flying open. Which he immediately squeezed shut again as a wave of dizziness and nausea rolled through him. He hung his head, swallowing against a dry throat, and eased his eyes open, trying to move and discovering he couldn't. His vision swam before him and he blinked rapidly, fighting through the fog of disorientation in his mind to remember what had happened.

 

He had been asleep. Next to Damien in their tent…

 

Then it all came crashing back.

 

Ice water surged through his veins and he jerked his head up, his surroundings starting to come into focus.

 

"Scott!" he cried out, his voice high and tight, heart pounding in his chest.

 

"Mike, I'm here."

 

Michael snapped his head to his right at Damien's voice, his vision clearing. He huffed out a relieved exhale when he saw his partner sitting close beside him, apparently unhurt. He tried to reach out to him and again discovered he couldn’t move. He looked down and realized that he was completely dressed and sitting in a wooden chair, to which he was bound to. His wrists were securely tied to the arms of the chair while another rope wound around his chest, holding him tight to the back of the chair. He pulled hard against his restraints to no avail.

 

His head swiveled, trying to ascertain where he and Damien were, and it only took him a moment. They were inside the forestry service cabin at the top of Jameson's Point. They were sitting in front of a table, which had an open laptop on it.

 

"What the _fuck_ …?" he muttered, catching Damien's eyes, which turned hard a moment before Michael heard another voice behind him.

 

"About time you decided to join us."

 

Michael's jaw tightened when Jimmy and Vince walked into his field of view. They leaned up against the table on either side of the laptop, sidearms in both their hands, pointed at Michael and Damien.

 

Gone were the fun, friendly men he and Damien had spent the past three days with, their façade now dropped, standing before them with expressions and body language Michael had seen far too often in his military career—those of stone-cold killers.

 

Jimmy shook his head at them, a look of disgust on his face. "The infamous Michael Stonebridge and Damien Scott. The pride of Section 20."

 

Michael's stomach dropped and he fought the urge to look over at his partner as Vince sneered at them.

 

"Pathetic," the red-head spat.

 

Jimmy spread his arms out. "And here we thought this was going to be a challenge! They did send five of us, after all, what with your reputations."

 

"But what did we find instead?" Vince said. "You two hiding on a mountain playing happy fucking family!"

 

Jimmy looked at Vince then back at Michael and Damien. "Five assassins right under your noses and you had no clue!" His lip curled. "You make me sick."

 

"What do you want?" Michael gritted out.

 

"Oh, it's not what _we_ want," Jimmy said, then nodded at Vince.

 

Vince tucked his weapon in his waistband, took his phone out of his pocket and sent a text message. A split second later the laptop screen came to life and Michael's breath caught in his chest at the person staring back at him.

 

Sir Charles Ridley.

 

"What the _fuck_ …?" Damien breathed.

 

On the screen, Ridley laughed, the sound like fingernails on a chalkboard to Michael.

 

Ridley sat back in his chair, his expression smug. "Michael. Damien," he nodded. "Forgive the theatrics, but I needed to see you both one last time with my own eyes. To know I had outsmarted Locke's best men," he preened.

 

Now Michael did risk a look at Damien as their enemy's words sunk in. Because he was right. They had been played. Badly.

 

The realization settled like a rock in Michael's stomach as the pieces fell like dominos. And from the look in Damien's eyes, his partner was connecting the dots as quickly as he was, how oblivious they had been until now.

 

Damien turned from Michael to address Jimmy and Vince.

 

"Booking all five cabins assured no other guests would be around to interrupt you," Damien said, his voice tight.

 

"Now you're getting it, Sherlock," Jimmy smirked.

 

"The trail ride, the ATV ride, the hiking, asking about any neighbors nearby…you were casing the ranch, gathering intelligence," Michael continued, ignoring the jibe. "Making sure we were isolated and also to find a place like this."

 

Vince cocked his head. "Watson's got it, too," he grinned.

 

Damien looked directly at Vince. "All texting you were doing, and the pictures. You were updating Ridley."

 

Vince gave him a snide wink and Damien's hands tightened on the chair.

 

Michael's blood boiled as he went on. "Questioning us about our pasts, probing our fake identities..."

 

Vince shrugged. "That was just for fun, listening to you ramble on about how love-struck you are with Scott and this ridiculous life." His face twisted. "Disgusting."

 

"Wanting to know where our staff lived, all of you getting friendly with them…" Damien trailed off and a feeling of utter dread settled in Michael's stomach. Assassins never left witnesses…

 

Jimmy sighed dramatically. "Ah, sweet, sweet Paula. I must say, it was a pleasure getting _close_ to her," he taunted, his free hand drifting down toward his groin.

 

Damien shook in his chair. "You _sick fuck_ ," he ground out.

 

Jimmy merely smirked at him. "She knows about you two, doesn't she? That you're not who you say you are. The Cole's? They don't have a fucking clue. But Paula…no matter how many times I brought you both up, her answers were evasive and she'd change the subject." Jimmy leaned forward, his voice low. "She's protecting you."

 

Michael twisted violently in his restraints, trying to lunge at Jimmy. "If you hurt her… _any_ of them, I will rip your _fucking_ _head off!_ "

 

Jimmy straightened back up. "Relax," he sneered. "We need to make your deaths look like a cut-and-dry accident. No investigation. Nothing that would make the authorities look at us. Killing five more people would be counter-intuitive to our plan. You can die knowing your precious family is safe."

 

"Well done, gentlemen."

 

Ridley's voice startled Michael and he jerked his head away from Jimmy and toward the laptop.

 

"Such a shame that you figured it out too late, however," Ridley gloated.

 

Michael's jaw clenched again, anger directed solely at himself flowing through him. He caught Damien's gaze, saw the same self-flagellation in his blue eyes. How could they have let this happen? Michael cursed himself for having become so complacent and out of practice he could no longer sense blatant danger all around him. And now it may cost him his life. And Damien's.

 

"To your credit, you led me on a merry chase to find you," Ridley continued and Michael turned back toward the screen.

 

"You took me by surprise, Michael, by dropping off the grid. Not something I had expected, since I truly believed Scott was dead. So why would you disappear?" Ridley paused. "And you did a good job of it, too. Changing your name? Relocating to the States? If not for facial recognition software, I never would have found you."

 

Michael and Damien exchanged confused looks and Ridley held up a tablet for them to see. On the screen was an article from their local Vermont newspaper about a new business opening up downtown. There was a photo of the storefront…with Michael caught in the background walking down the sidewalk.

 

"I couldn't believe my luck, not only finally locating you, but discovering Sergeant Scott was alive as well. I could now eliminate two birds with one stone."

 

"Why?" Damien asked. "Why do you want us dead after all this time, Ridley? We're no threat to you."

 

The answer hit Michael like a sledgehammer to the chest. " _Fuck_ …"

 

Damien looked at him sharply. "Michael?"

 

"We _are_ a threat to him, Scott," Michael began. "I received an alert on Ridley's name three days ago. I tried to tell you but they showed up," he nodded toward Vince and Jimmy, "And it slipped from my mind."

 

"That's why you looked so upset that afternoon."

 

Michael nodded, then continued. "Ridley's vying for a seat in Parliament and his entire life is under a microscope. Any skeletons he's had buried away will be revealed and he needs to clean house quickly." He paused, his voice hardening. "We're the only ones who know about his involvement in both Locke's murder and Li-Na's, and that he hired Mason and Faber to take down Twenty to cover it up."

 

"And those truths can never be revealed," Ridley said, his expression hard. "Your deaths will assure that."

 

Ridley looked away from Michael and Damien to address Jimmy and Vince.

 

"I'm assuming your plan is obviously in place or you wouldn't have contacted me."

 

Jimmy nodded. "We discarded whitewater rafting as a viable option. Too many factors we couldn't control after our initial test. We decided to go with rock climbing."

 

"And you're positive you can make it look like an accident?" Ridley asked. "Because I can't afford to have anyone probing into Scott and Stonebridge's lives and discovering they're not who they say they are. That would lead straight back to Twenty and to me."

 

"We've got it covered," Vince assured him. "We're going to make it look like Scott's climbing equipment started to fail. Stonebridge went down to rescue him, and they both ended up plunging to their deaths."

 

"And with the five of us as witnesses, it will be an airtight story," Jimmy continued. "Tyson, Brandon and Amir are outside getting the gear ready right now." He paused to hold up a small case. "Another dose of the sedative and it will be goodbye Scott and Stonebridge," he grinned cruelly.

 

Ridley nodded. "Excellent." He turned his attention to Michael, his expression triumphant. "You should have killed me when you had the chance."

 

Michael ground his teeth together, gripping the arms of chair so hard he thought they would shatter. Because once again, Ridley was right.

 

Ridley looked at Vince. "Text me when it's done," he said and terminated the connection.

 

Jimmy shut the laptop and looked over his shoulder at Michael and Damien. He slipped his gun into his waistband, then held up the small, black case for them to see. "Don't worry, you won't feel a thing when you hit the ground," he smiled, eyes cold.

 

As both he and Vince turned their attention to measuring out two more doses of the sedative, Michael's mind was spinning furiously. They needed a plan. _Now_. For the next fifteen seconds or so, neither Jimmy or Vince would have their weapon in their hands, holding syringes instead. He and Damien needed to take advantage of the opportunity. And then it hit Michael—the last time he and his partner had been tied to chairs. Facing Li-Na in North Korea. They needed to strike in the same way.

 

Without looking at Damien and giving anything away to their captors, Michael twisted his right wrist slightly and stretched out one finger toward Damien's hand. He could just reach. Using Morse code as they'd done in the past, Michael tapped out a short message, hoping his partner would understand.

 

_N.KOREA_

 

Damien's tapped reply against Michael's hand was instant.

 

_COPY_

 

Michael took a long, slow breath, the adrenaline beginning to build inside him, his heart rate increasing. He cleared his mind of all but one laser-focused thought of survival.

 

They could not fail. They _would not_ fail.

 

They were soldiers.

 

Michael's entire body tensed inwardly as Vince and Jimmy turned around, holding the syringes. Michael and Damien remained silent as they stepped closer.

 

"What?" Jimmy said. "No last minute plea to spare your lives?"

 

Michael and Damien said nothing, staring directly at the two men, unblinking.

 

"With how soft they've gotten, you'd think they'd be shedding tears by now," Vince snickered.

 

Michael's body was practically vibrating now, but he held himself, and his tongue, in check, as Vince moved up in front of him and Jimmy in front of Damien.

 

"Let's just get this over with, put them out of their misery," Jimmy said dismissively. "I've got a paycheck to collect."

 

"Works for me," Vince replied.

 

The instant the two men cast their gazes down to the syringes, Michael and Damien exploded into action, smashing their heads into Vince and Jimmy's faces, just as they had done to Li-Na and her guards in North Korea.

 

With that first, violent action, Michael's long-dormant combat instincts awoke with the force of a cyclone.

 

Jimmy and Vince staggered back from the unexpected attack, dropping the syringes, hands flying up to their broken noses. Knowing they only had seconds before the men recovered, Michael and Damien pressed their advantage. As one they sprang to their feet and spun around, launching themselves backwards, catching Jimmy and Vince between their chairs and the table. The old, dry wood shattered with the impact of four bodies, sending everyone tumbling to the floor, the furniture in pieces around them.

 

Michael and Damien were on their feet first, working as seamlessly as if they had never left Section 20. They shook off the broken pieces of their chairs, the rope around their chests falling away, freeing them. The ropes around their wrists remained, thin, jagged shards of the arms of the chair dangling from them, but no longer impeding their movement.

 

Perfectly in sync once again, knowing they had only moments before the noise would bring Amir, Tyson and Brandon running, Michael and Damien lashed out with their feet, catching Jimmy and Vince in the face once again. Their enemy's heads snapped back and Michael and Damien had their sidearms in their own hands in less than a second.

 

Michael hadn't held a handgun in over a year, but the moment the familiar weight hit his palm, it was all muscle memory. One second later and two kill shots to the head ended the threat in front of them, bright red blood spraying in grotesque patterns on the wall and floor.

 

Before Michael could catch his breath, the door to the cabin burst open. Brandon was first in the door, Damien's shot catching him in the upper chest, sending him to the floor as Amir and Tyson pushed past him and inside, guns up.

 

The interior of the small cabin was a kill box, with nothing to use for cover. They needed space or they were dead men. With only one avenue of escape available to them, Michael shouted to Damien as their enemy opened fire.

 

"Scott! On me!"

 

With two long strides, Michael crashed through the window, feeling a bullet graze a hot path across his left shoulder blade before he hit the ground outside the cabin, covered in glass. He executed a perfect roll, springing back up onto his feet as Damien followed close behind him with an identical maneuver, his forehead bloody. From broken glass or a bullet graze, Michael didn't know, but Damien was still on his feet.

 

"Move! Move!" Michael yelled.

 

They dove for cover, Michael behind a large tree and Damien behind a tall boulder as Amir and Tyson poured out the front door of the cabin, firing repeatedly, ducking down between four of the ATVs.

 

Michael and Damien, however, had only one clip of ammo each and needed to make every shot count. They shook off the ropes hanging from their wrists, then returned fire cautiously as bullets rained down around them, splinters exploding from the tree and shards of rock from the boulder, impeding their vision and their aim.

 

Down to only four bullets, Michael knew they were running out of time. He searched desperately for a solution to give them the upper hand they needed. His eyes caught a glint of metal behind Amir and Tyson just as Damien yelled over to him.

 

"Michael! Cover me! I'll head around the back of the cabin and flank them!"

 

"No! Wait!" Michael held out a hand, stopping his partner as he realized what he was looking at behind their enemy.

 

It was the propane tank for the cabin, used for heating and the small stove. And now it was about to be used as a bomb.

 

Michael's angle was all wrong, though, from his position behind the tree. He would have to step out to make the shot.

 

"Cover fire!" Michael commanded.

 

Damien responded without hesitation, proof of his trust in Michael, his remaining six bullets expelling from his sidearm in rapid succession. Amir and Tyson flattened themselves down, giving Michael the split-second opportunity he needed. He stepped out fully from behind the tree, took careful aim…and fired.

 

The propane tank exploded, the fireball consuming everything in its vicinity, including the rear two ATVs. It set off a chain reaction, their gas tanks exploding as well, catching Tyson and Amir fully in the blast as the other two ATVs in front of them exploded seconds later. Michael heard agonized screams…then nothing.

 

Damien stood up from behind the boulder and came around in front of it as the fire burned before them. He threw his head back and laughed as he turned to look at Michael.

 

"Fucking _brilliant_ , dude!"

 

It felt like old times, standing there with Damien—the smell of cordite thick in the air, dirt on their skin, blood on their face, having cheated death once more, laughing to expel the excess adrenaline still coursing through their veins. He turned to his partner with a smile of his own, only to have his expression change to one of disbelief as Brandon appeared at the smashed out window, his shirt covered in blood, more seeping from his mouth. Before Michael could comprehend that Damien's shot hadn't killed him, or call out a warning to his partner, Brandon's gun was up, his finger on the trigger.

 

Two shots rang out.

 

Damien's body jerked twice, slamming back against the boulder before crumpling to the ground, unmoving.

 

_"NO!"_

 

The anguished cry was torn from Michael as he watched his partner fall. Blinding, white-hot rage surged through him and he charged forward, heedless of the danger, bellowing in anger, firing his last remaining rounds. All three bullets found their target, striking Brandon in his chest, neck and head, his body jerking violently from the impacts, blood arcing out in red streams. He was dead before he hit the ground, without question this time.

 

Michael's spent weapon fell from nerveless fingers as he turned back to Damien. His heart was palpitating, skipping irregularly as he took three long strides and threw himself down next to his fallen partner.

 

_He can't be dead…he can't be dead…_

 

With trembling hands and a breath trapped in his throat, Michael rolled Damien over onto his back. The first thing he saw was the blood soaking Damien's shirt over his abdomen. The second thing he saw were Damien's blue eyes staring up at him…and blinking.

 

Michael's breath exploded out of him. "Damien!"

 

"M—Mike…" Damien gasped, his face contorted in pain, blood in his mouth.

 

"Hang on, mate…hang on…I've got you…" Michael rambled, pressing his hands hard over both of Damien's gunshot wounds.

 

Damien cried out at the pressure, his eyes squeezing closed. Blood continued to flow between Michael's fingers, staining them dark red, and his mind raced. He needed to get his partner down off the mountain immediately. But how? The last remaining ATV wasn't an option. He would never be able to hold Damien and drive. And then it came to him—the radio in the cabin.

 

He flung himself away from Damien and charged inside the cabin, realizing too late that the radio had been sitting on the small table where the laptop had been. He tore through the wreckage with his blood covered hands, finding the radio beneath Jimmy's body—smashed. Michael picked it up, and the receiver fell away, torn loose in the scuffle. With a cry of anger, Michael threw the broken radio across the room. It impacted the wall and fell in pieces to the floor.

 

Michael doubled over, hands on this thighs, head hanging, desperation beginning to overwhelm him. He would not let Damien die. Not now, not after how hard they had fought for this new life together. There had to be some way to get help up here…

 

Michael's head shot up. There was. Vince's phone.

 

Michael dropped to his knees and tore at Vince's body, searching for the phone, praying it, too, had not been damaged. He found it in Vince's back pocket and pressed the button on the side. The screen lit up instantly and Michael blew out a harsh breath in relief.

 

"Thank you…" he muttered.

 

He started to stand but then tucked the phone in his own pocket and pulled at Vince's shirt, ripping at it until he was able to pull it from the body. He did the same with Jimmy's shirt before shoving himself to his feet and racing back outside.

 

He threw himself down next to his partner, immediately noticing Damien's eyes were closed. His heart skipped a beat and he put a hand on the side of Damien's face, tapping it.

 

"Damien! Damien! Open your eyes!"

 

Damien groaned softly and his eyes fluttered open. "Mike…?"

 

His voice was barely above a whisper and Michael's chest clenched.

 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here, mate. Keep your eyes open for me, okay? I'm going to get you out of this," he vowed, pressing Jimmy and Vince's shirts against Damien's abdomen, trying to staunch the still-steady flow of blood. Damien barely registered the pain this time, a testament as to how weak he was becoming.

 

Keeping one hand on the makeshift bandages, Michael pulled Vince's phone out of his pocket and dialed a familiar number, smearing Damien's blood over the screen.

 

_"Hello?"_

 

"Paula!" He shouted. "Call the sheriff! Get the search and rescue helo up to the cabin at Jameson's Point! I need immediate medevac!"

 

There was a pause on the other end. _"Michael? Is that you? What's going on? What's wrong?"_

 

Michael swallowed hard, looking down at his partner, bleeding out in front of him.

 

"It's Scott. He's been shot."

 

He heard Paula draw in a startled breath. _"I'm calling right now."_

 

She hung up and Michael dropped the phone, turning all his attention back to his partner. Damien was struggling for breath now, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His normally bright blue eyes were dull and full of pain.

 

Michael's heart twisted. He was losing him.

 

Damien's hand twitched, barely lifting off the ground. Michael grabbed onto it fiercely. Damien tried to speak and couldn't, but his eyes said everything for him. Saying goodbye. Saying I love you.

 

Michael shook his head, moisture pricking behind his eyes. "No," he ground out, his throat threatening to close up with emotion. "Don't you go, you hear me? Stay with me, Damien," he pleaded. "Stay with me...please…"

 

Damien's eyes slowly drifted closed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was the longest thirty minutes of Michael Stonebridge's life.

 

It started with the interminable wait for the search and rescue chopper, watching Damien's life seep out into a dark red pool in the dirt, minute by minute. Thankfully, Paula must have relayed it was a gunshot wound in her call, for the qualified EMTs on the team were prepared for the trauma when they finally landed. What Michael was not prepared for was Damien's heart stopping while they were in flight, still five minutes out from the hospital. He sat, helpless, feeling his own heart stop beating as the medics worked frantically to bring Damien back.

 

_Don't take him from me…_

 

The thought still rang in Michael's head as he stood now in a hospital hallway, staring at the doors his partner had disappeared behind, Damien's heart beating once again, but barely, his condition critical, on his way to emergency surgery. He had never regained consciousness after closing his eyes in front of Michael, and there was still a chance he may never.

 

Michael pulled in a shaky breath, reaching up a hand to rub his tired, dry eyes when he paused, looking first at his hand, then down at himself. He was covered in Damien's blood—his hands, his arms, his shirt, his pants.

 

Pure rage like he had never felt tore through him. He wanted to lash out, to smash his fist through the glass doors in front of him, but he turned his anger inward, let it transform into an overwhelming, burning desire for revenge against the man he had mistakenly let live, who was now responsible for all of this.

 

He would not make that same mistake twice.

 

A plan already forming in his head, Michael pulled out Vince's phone once again. He pulled up the text message app, saw the conversations Vince had been having with Ridley over the past three days. Michael's jaw clenched as he sent one last reply, posing as Vince.

 

_It's done_

 

The reply was nearly instantaneous.

 

_The money will be in your accounts within the hour_

 

Michael's hand tightened around the phone so hard the edges cut into his palm. He wondered how much his and Damien's lives had been worth. He forced himself to relax his grip and take a breath. What mattered now was that Ridley thought they were dead, and that's what mattered.

 

He turned to sit down in the nearest chair to wait for word on Damien when he spotted two Sheriff deputies walk in the front doors of the hospital.

 

"Shit," he cursed, stepping quickly out of their view and down another hallway, now faced with another problem—questions from the authorities that he couldn’t answer.

 

Thinking quickly, he used Vince's phone once again, dialing another familiar number.

 

_"Hello?"_

 

"Kim, it's Michael. I need your help."

 

He swiftly ran down the events of the last several hours, and there was stunned silence for a moment on the other end of the line when he finished.

 

_"Jesus Christ, Michael…"_ Kim finally breathed. _"What can I do?"_

 

"I need you to use every contact you have, call in every favor you have and get the DEA to take over the investigation from the locals, so that you can bury it," Michael began. "Spin whatever story you have to. And then have the locals release a statement that two rock climbers were killed in an accident. I know Ridley will be monitoring everything coming out of here and he can't know we're still alive." Michael paused and took a breath, his voice hard as steel. "I won't let him get away with this, Kim."

 

_"Leave the investigation to me, I'll take care of it,"_ Kim replied, her voice just as hard. _"You take care of Ridley."_

 

Michael nodded, rage flowing through his veins once more. "Fucking copy that."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Hours later, Michael sat at Damien's bedside, listening to the steady beeping of the heart monitor in the quiet room, watching his sleeping partner breathe. Michael was finally clean, Damien's nurse providing him with a set of green hospital scrubs so that he could change out of his bloody clothes and take a quick wash in the bathroom. He was glad to be rid of the evidence of his partner's near-death.

 

Michael leaned forward, curling his hand around Damien's arm. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across Damien's wrist, needing to touch him, to reassure himself that Damien was alive. It had been touch-and-go in the operating room, Damien's surgeon had told him. His blood loss was so severe they nearly lost him on the table. But the damage the two bullets had done had been repaired successfully and the doctor was confident of a full and complete recovery. If nothing changed, no infection set in, Damien would be going home in a few days.

 

Their home that had been invaded by enemies right under their noses. Michael was disgusted with himself all over again that he'd allowed this to happen. Never again, he vowed. He would never again ignore the sound of a twig snapping in the forest. He would be looking for threats around him for a long time to come.

 

The sound of the door pushing open behind him drew Michael from his thoughts. He twisted in his chair to see Paula walk tentatively into the room, holding a duffel bag with fresh clothes for him. He stood and held open his arms and she quickly crossed the distance between them. She set the bag down and hugged him tightly.

 

"I'm so glad you called," she said, then moved back slightly. "I was scared to death. I wanted to be waiting here at the hospital when the helicopter arrived, but I didn't know what was going on. I was afraid I'd be in the way." She turned to look at Damien and put her hand over her mouth. When she turned back to Michael, her eyes were shining with moisture. "I know I can't ask—" she started, but Michael cut her off, taking both her hands.

 

"No, I'm going to tell you everything," he said. "You deserve to know. If it wasn't for your help, Damien would be dead."

 

Her brows drew together at the name she'd never heard before.

 

"That's his real name. Damien Scott," Michael explained. He drew her over to the chairs and they sat down. "Let me start at the beginning…"

 

Michael told her the truth about everything—their real names, Section 20, how they ended up at the ranch and who Jimmy and the rest of them really were.

 

Paula sat there quietly, absorbing it all, her eyes growing wider with each truth Michael revealed.

 

Michael took one of her hands again as his story drew to a close. "I'm so sorry that Jimmy used you, that you were drawn into their sick game to get to Damien and I." He squeezed her hand. "Jimmy told us that you evaded his questions about us. Thank you. Thank you for protecting us," he said sincerely. "You didn't have to do that."

 

She squeezed his hand back and gave him a tremulous smile. "Of course I did," she replied, her voice wavering.

 

It was obvious to Michael that she was shaken by the news that she had been played and manipulated by someone that she had taken the chance on letting get close to her. The first person in a long time. But there was something else there in her expression—anger.

 

She started to speak then stopped, and Michael could see the internal struggle going on, deciding whether or not to open up and share after having just been taken advantage of so badly.

 

Michael shook his head. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

 

Paula swallowed and found her voice. "No, I do," she said. "After this, we need to get everything out in the open between us." She took a breath. "My first name is Paula, but my last name is really Durrell," she began. "I got mixed up in a bad situation without realizing it until it was too late. I didn't know I was being manipulated by someone I loved. Who I thought loved me in return. When it all went south on him and the FBI showed up, I discovered that he had covered his tracks and implicated me in the illegal activities instead. He had laid the groundwork so well that I had no chance of proving my innocence. So I went on the run, and through a series of events, I ended up at Trail's End." Her voice turned bitter. "He's still out there, having gotten away scot free, and I'm in hiding and always will be. All I want is closure and I don't think I'll ever get it."

 

Paula's story touched Michael, giving him clarity and understanding as to why she kept herself so guarded. His heart ached deeply for having unknowingly encouraged her to open herself up to Jimmy.

 

"Paula…I’m so sorry," he whispered.

 

She shook her head. "You had no way of knowing," she reassured him. Then her expression hardened. "Jimmy's body…is it here? Can I see it?"

 

The unexpected question took Michael aback at first, but then he understood her reasoning behind the request—closure. And Michael hated that he couldn't give it to her. He had no idea what Kim's DEA team had done with the bodies, but he knew for certain they weren't here in the hospital morgue.

 

"I'm sorry," he said again. "His body wasn't moved here."

 

She blew out a breath, disappointment in her eyes. Then her expression turned thoughtful. "His things…are they still at the ranch?"

 

"As far as I know. Why?"

 

She cocked her head, a tiny grin at the corner of her mouth. "Would you mind if I had a little bonfire?"

 

Michael laughed for the first time in what felt like days. "I will be more than happy to give you Damien's lighter to start the blaze."

 

They shared a smile and then Michael turned sober again. His gaze drifted to Damien for a long moment before he turned back to Paula.

 

"I need your help one last time," he said quietly.

 

"What can I do?" she asked without hesitation.

 

"After Damien wakes up, and I know he's going to be all right, I have to leave. Before he can stop me."

 

Paula's forehead furrowed. "Leave? Where are you going?"

 

Michael's voice dropped. "The man who did this, who ordered and paid for our deaths, is still out there, and he's still a threat." He paused. "I'm going to eliminate that threat."

 

Paula's eyes widened, but she said nothing. Michael knew she understood his own desire for closure.

 

"Right now he believes that he succeeded, that Damien and I are dead," Michael continued. "But I don't know how long that story might hold, if he discovers it's his own hired men that are dead instead. So I can't afford to wait." He looked into Paula's warm eyes. "I need you to look after Damien for me. Once I leave, I'll have to cut off all communication. I can't take the risk of being discovered. I'm sure he's monitoring everything, making sure there are no loose ends."

 

He looked to Damien again, his chest clenching with his next words. "There's a chance I may fail. And if I do…I won't ever be coming back." He forced his gaze to return to Paula, who looked stricken by Michael's words. "He's going to need someone to help pick up the pieces if that happens."

 

Paula shook her head fiercely. "If you're even half the soldier I think you are, that's not going to happen," she said strongly. "This man is the last obstacle that stands between you and Damien's freedom. You won't fail."

 

Paula's words gave him strength, solidified his desire to end this once and for all. He nodded.

 

One last mission. For Damien. For him. For everything.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Sometime later a noise pulled Michael awake. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, not recognizing where he was. It came back to him a second later—Damien's hospital room. He must have dozed off in the chair. The light outside the window had changed and it was now early evening. The noise again and Michael pushed himself up straighter, feeling the ache in his muscles from the strain he had put his body through today. He immediately turned to the bed and saw Damien shifting, his head moving, his fingers flexing. Michael's heart jumped and he stood quickly, leaning over his partner. He lay a hand on Damien's upper chest, fingers just over the top of his shoulder.

 

"That's it, mate," he encouraged Damien. "Wake up for me…"

 

Damien pulled in a long breath and his blue eyes slowly fluttered open.

 

Michael exhaled sharply, relief washing through him at the sight of Damien finally conscious after so long. "Hey," he smiled, rubbing his thumb on Damien's chest. "You with me?"

 

Damien blinked slowly several times, confusion in his eyes. He swallowed hard and tried to speak, but all that came out was a dry rasp.

 

"Wait, hang on," Michael told him, then poured a cup of water from the pitcher at his bedside. He inserted a straw then turned back to his partner. He raised Damien's head slightly and guided the straw to his mouth. "Just a few sips," he instructed him. "Slowly."

 

Damien pulled in the cool liquid gratefully, the confusion fading as he drank. He finally nodded and Michael set the cup aside, then sat on the edge of Damien's bed.

 

"Mike…" Damien whispered, lifting up his left hand.

 

Michael grabbed onto it, soaking in the warmth. "Welcome back," he said quietly, then smiled. "It was your turn to scare the shit out of me. Are we done with that bollocks now?"

 

Damien grinned, chuckling, then grimaced. He pushed the sheet off his bare chest and looked down at the thick bandages encircling his abdomen.

 

"How bad?" he asked.

 

Michael sobered, feeling an echo of the fear from earlier that day. He squeezed Damien's hand. "We lost you in the helo on the way here. And then almost again in the operating theater. You'd lost so much blood…" He swallowed hard. "If not for Paula getting search and rescue to us as quickly as she did, you wouldn't be here."

 

The corners of Damien's mouth quirked. "Guess now that she helped save my life I have to stop teasing her, eh?"

 

"Damien…I told her everything. I felt she needed to know, after all of this."

 

Damien nodded. "That was a good call. We got her involved in this and she deserved an explanation." He paused. "Just how the fuck are we going to get ourselves out of this mess, though? I'm surprised there's not a cop standing at the door after the trail of dead bodies we left on the mountain."

 

"I called Kim," Michael said. "She's making it all disappear." _Almost all_ , Michael thought to himself. The rest was up to him.

 

Damien smiled. "Remind me to send her a Thank You card. And a box of chocolates." He slid his hand from Michael's and pointed at his bandages. "Right after I get a fucking bullseye tattooed there. Four times, Mikey. I've been fucking shot there four fucking times!" he cracked.

 

But Michael didn't return his partner's humor. It was time. He was reassured now that Damien was going to be all right. He needed to leave. While Damien couldn’t stop him.

 

Ever in tune with each other, Damien's expression turned serious. He reached up and laid a hand on the side of Michael's face. "Mike? What is it?"

 

Michael closed his eyes and turned into the touch, his heart clenching painfully at the thought of what he was about to walk away from. Possibly forever.

 

"Mike?"

 

Michael opened his eyes and took a steadying breath. He stood, Damien's hand falling away. He forced his voice to be neutral, to not give away his internal battle.

 

"If you need anything, call Paula. She'll be there for you."

 

Damien's brows drew together. "Why would I call her and not you? Mike, what the fuck is going on?"

 

"I'm going to go end this, Damien. Fix my mistake. I won't have us looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives." He leaned down and kissed Damien softly. "I love you," he murmured, his voice finally breaking as he slipped the chain from around his neck and pressed the key into Damien's palm. He closed his partner's fingers around it and squeezed hard once before letting go.

 

He saw it in Damien's eyes, that his partner understood his intentions and the implications of leaving him the key—that Michael may never return. He saw the fury, mixed with fear, as he turned his back on his partner and walked away.

 

"No! Michael! MICHAEL! Don't you do this, damn you! Michael!"

 

Damien's pleas were a knife to Michael's gut, twisting, tearing him up inside, knowing there was a chance that he may never see him again. If he wasn't killed, but caught instead, he would spend the rest of his life in prison. But he didn't stop, didn’t turn around. He was a man possessed now, having nearly lost Damien, Ridley's face taunting him as he walked out the door, his partner's shouts echoing behind him in the hallway…and in his heart.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Kim and Stephen had come through for Michael once more. There was a man waiting for him at the airport with a passport with Michael's photo and another name. He was also given an envelope containing a stack of cash and a typed note from Kim. She told him that she had called Finn, to let him know they were all right, on the off chance that he may see something on the news or internet that Damien and Michael had been reported killed in a rock climbing accident. At the bottom of the note was Ridley's itinerary for the next several days, plus his address in London. Two other pieces of paper in the envelope were a map and satellite imagery of the area surrounding his home.

 

Michael tucked everything into his pockets and strode inside the airport—a soldier on his final mission.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Eight hours later, Michael exited a cab in the heart of London. He took in the familiar noise, the sights, the smells, the hustle and bustle around him. He expected a sharp pang of homesickness after being gone for nearly two years. But instead he was assaulted with memories of Section 20, off all the teammates and friends he had lost, of a life and career that was taken away from him. All by one man.

 

Revenge flared inside him once again, and he forced himself to take a breath, centering himself. A successful mission required planning, not rash action.

 

His focus regained, he set off into the city.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ridley's itinerary put him out of the city for the next two days, which suited Michael. He got himself set up in a no-name motel and purchased the clothing and equipment he would need, everything in cash. He knew the city well—where to go, who to see, and it wasn't long before he had a .45 caliber Glock with a suppressor in his possession. He removed the clip and dry-fired it, testing the break on the trigger. He hated using unfamiliar weapons, especially one he would not have a chance to zero in. But then again, he was planning on being close enough that it wouldn't matter.

 

Using the map and satellite imagery, Michael cased Ridley's home using high-powered daylight and night vision binoculars. He made note of the security measures he could see and narrowed down his entry point. He carefully watched the comings and goings of Ridley's staff—how many of them there were, their routines and schedules. And most importantly, what time they left for the evening.

 

Ridley arrived home the following day. Michael's vision went red the moment his target exited his limousine, and it took all of his self-control to not kill him where he stood. Because that was not the plan. This mission was personal. And Ridley needed to know that.

 

Michael observed his target all day and into the night, then again the following day and night. Ridley was a man of routine, especially in the evening, which is what Michael had been hoping for.

 

Bravo One implemented his mission objective on the third night.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Without a sound, Michael slid up the kitchen window, swung his legs over the sill and dropped silently to the floor. He paused, weapon up and at the ready, listening intently for a long moment. Confident his entry had gone undetected, Michael moved like a shadow through the nearly empty home, dressed in black from head to toe. His blood thrummed in his veins, adrenaline building, every nerve ending on fire as he crept up the stairs to Ridley's bedroom.

 

He paused again, just outside the open door, breathing deeply and steadily. Narrowing his eyes and clenching his jaw, he stepped into the room.

 

It was a warm night, and one of the windows was open, the curtains barely fluttering in the soft breeze. The moonlight streaming through illuminated the bed—and Ridley asleep in it.

 

Again, the overwhelming urge was there to simply pull the trigger, Michael's body vibrating with red-hot fury as he looked upon the man who had nearly taken everything from him. But he forced himself to lower his gun, to wait just a minute longer. He needed Ridley to know, to see the shock on his face.

 

"Ridley!"

 

The grey-haired man was startled violently into wakefulness at the sound of Michael's commanding voice. Ridley sat straight up in bed, recoiling back when he caught sight of Michael's indistinct form at the foot of the bed.

 

Michael took three steps forward, into the moonlight, so that Ridley could see him clearly. The reaction was instantaneous. Ridley sucked in a strangled breath at the sight of a man he thought dead and buried, shaking his head in denial, his eyes wide with fear and the realization of what was about to happen. He raised his hands, as if trying to stave off his inevitable fate.

 

"Please…"

 

Michael held Ridley's terrified gaze with laser intensity. Gone was the man from the computer screen, arrogant and triumphant, reduced now to begging for his life.

 

Michael's voice was steady and strong and cold as ice.

 

"I told you I would kill you." Michael raised his gun. "I always keep my promises."

 

Two shots rang out in the dark.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It took Michael longer than he would have liked to stage Ridley's home, but it was essential to make it appear to have been a home invasion that ended in Ridley's death, and not what it really was—an assassination.

 

The thought of what he had done made Michael feel physically ill. He made it back to the kitchen before he staggered, leaning over the sink, nausea rolling through him, the taste of bile in his mouth. Despite the countless number of people he had killed over the course of his military career, he'd never felt like a cold-blooded murderer until tonight. But in the next breath he thought of Julia and Locke and Damien, and he knew without a doubt his actions had been justified.

 

He slipped out of Ridley's home, and London, with a clear conscience.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ten hours later, Michael stepped out of the cab at the end of the drive leading up to Trail's End Ranch.

 

He had called the hospital as soon as his plane landed, needing to speak to Damien, only to find out that his partner had been discharged early that morning. So he headed for the ranch. Headed home. To Damien.

 

He stood under the Trail's End sign, feeling as if he had been gone a month instead of five days. He was physically and mentally exhausted, having been running on nothing but adrenaline for days. Now that everything was over, he felt himself start to crash, but he urged his body up the drive. Just a little ways more and he could rest, wrap his arms around the person he had done all of this for. To know that it had been worth hurting Damien, leaving him, to save them both.

 

As he came around the corner of the house at the top of the drive he spotted Paula sitting on the front porch, staring off into nothing, her face drawn, Sully lying at her feet.

 

"Hey," he said quietly.

 

Startled, she turned toward him. When she registered who she was seeing she burst into tears and ran toward Michael. He hugged her tightly as she cried, touched by her concern.

 

"You're okay…" she said, pulling back.

 

"I'm okay," he smiled.

 

"It's over?" she asked cautiously.

 

Michael nodded firmly. "It is." He reached out and squeezed one of her hands. "Thank you for being here." He looked toward the house. "How is he?"

 

Paula wiped the tears from her face. "It's been bad, Michael. He's so angry. He won't admit it, but underneath the anger he's scared he was never going to see you again."

 

Michael sighed deeply. "I hated how I left. But I couldn’t let him stop me or have him try and follow me. This was my mess to clean up."

 

Paula put her hand on Michael's arm. "I know," she said softly. "Now go in there and tell him you'll never leave like that again."

 

Michael's voice was strong. "I won't ever have to."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael walked quietly inside the house and down the hallway to the bedroom. Standing in the doorway he could see Damien in bed, propped up with several pillows, asleep. He was bare-chested, the white bandages around his abdomen standing out in stark relief against his tan skin. The key glinted in the sunlight from where it hung on the chain around Damien's neck.

 

Michael could hear low voices, and when he walked into the room he saw that Paula had moved their small TV into the bedroom. It was currently on a 24-hour news network and Michael instantly knew why. Damien was watching, waiting, for any news on Michael. If he had been killed or caught and arrested.

 

Michael turned from the TV to his partner. Damien's face looked haggard, even in sleep, dark circles under his eyes, his mouth tight, and it hit Michael hard that he was the cause. Hating himself for the agony he had put Damien through the last five days, Michael slipped out of his boots and into bed beside his partner.

 

He reached out a hand, first touching the key, then cupping Damien's cheek, his thumb rubbing gently. "Damien," he whispered.

 

Damien pulled in a breath and blinked open exhausted blue eyes. He startled slightly when he realized he wasn't alone in the bed, tipping his head toward Michael, brows drawn together. In the next seconds Michael watched a myriad of emotions cross his partner's face, most prominently relief—and anger.

 

Damien's blue eyes shone with sudden moisture and his hands rose up to cup Michael's head. He tugged Michael closer, until their foreheads touched. He flexed his fingers, tightening his hold.

 

"Don’t you _ever_ fucking do that again, you hear me?" Damien choked out, voice breaking. Then he grabbed Michael around his shoulders and pulled him in, holding him close.

 

The last of his energy gone, Michael sank into Damien's embrace, burying his head into the crook of his partner's neck. He took a shuddering breath and quit fighting the emotions he'd been holding inside, letting the silent tears flow, to mix with Damien's own.

 

They held one another as they released the hurt and the anger and the apology, until Michael tipped his head up to meet Damien's gaze and saw the shadows were finally gone from behind his partner's eyes.

 

He smiled softly but then turned from Damien as the television reporter's next story caught his attention.

 

_"In international news, prominent London politician Sir Charles Ridley was found murdered in his home today, the apparent victim of a home invasion and robbery. The police have no suspects."_

 

And with those words, Michael felt the last weight lifted from his shoulders, able to breathe easily for the first time in a year and a half. Their fallen comrades had now been vindicated. Justice had been served.

 

Michael turned back to his partner, saw the same sentiments echoed on Damien's face. They moved together as one, falling into a kiss that was full of promise and hope for their future.

 

They were finally free.

 

**THE END**


End file.
